


The Devil You Know

by il_mio_capitano



Series: Monster [2]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 07:36:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 29,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5448530
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/il_mio_capitano/pseuds/il_mio_capitano
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part two of Monster series. Buffy is determined to keep Giles safe and figure out what has been done to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

**Prologue**

Sunlight screeched in from the high medieval window like lightning bolts. The morning light had sought her out as it always did. Buffy watched as the old dust particles heated and danced in the daggers of daylight. She stood very still on the silent granite flagstones. The final battle, if it could even be called that, was not the stuff of song and legend. It was all over and an enemy vanquished though she didn’t want to call him that. It was as hollow a victory as the old fortress in which she stood.

Buffy turned to leave and walked towards the heavy oak doors, clutching the sword as her only ally. Outside, the heat greeted her as fiercely as the daylight did. She raised her hand to shield her eyes and felt the hot air accusingly on her bare shoulders. The thick walls had been a protection for hundreds of years, keeping their contents sheltered, guarding their secrets until there was no-one left to learn them.

In the distance the mountains shimmered as the air grew warm. She could see Willow outside the open main gates. She was huddled over, birdlike, on a group of rocks, her body heaving with tears. Buffy fought a mild pang of annoyance at her friend. She wanted to cry too but Slayers don’t have that luxury. They kill. They deal. They carry on. Watchers had taught her she should do that.

A dark figure pulled away from a sandstone column to confront her. “Is it over?” he asked.

“He’s gone,” she said stonily. She couldn’t look Xander in the eye. “It’s for the best.”

 

**Chapter One**

All in all it was going pretty well. Buffy woke from her warm sun-kissed dream and shifted a little. She kicked the thin blanket over her toes and nestled her shoulders back under Giles’ borrowed leather jacket. She lay in her narrow bunk bed on the night ferry and reflected. The cold she could do without but everything else was nice. She’d been travelling with Giles across Europe for four days now and she had enjoyed his companionship immensely. He’d been out of her life for six months after the fall of Sunnydale and but for a happenchance meeting would have remained hidden from her for who knows how long. Now he was back at her side and she felt more settled with herself. Everything was under control and they were on the move together. Giles had been pretty adamant that he would not fly anywhere so there had been a succession of hire cars and cheap hotel rooms since Christmas Day. Buffy liked travelling; it gave her a sense of purpose and taking Giles to England was her new big project.

Giles had a problem that had been keeping him away from her. He said he was under a spell that forced him apart from people. He was also convinced something was after him, a concern Buffy had taken very seriously for the first few days. No aeroplanes, no phone calls to Willow or Dawn. Certainly nothing to tell Robin Wood, the head of the New Watcher Council where they were or that she’d even found him. She enjoyed the cloak and dagger-ness of it up to a point, but not being able to call Dawn sucked. She had taken possession of his passport and credit cards so he didn’t have to worry about the responsibility and to stop him slipping away from her again. Given she’d spent the past six months on the road, troubleshooting for Robin, so having a travelling companion was a nice change. Giles was if nothing else, insufferably guidebooky about places. She laughed at how she’d missed his stuffy little lectures and how she found the sound of his voice reassuring. Eating out was pleasant too even if he did insist on having his back to the wall of any restaurant. He had a fear of confinement but after four days of no-one or no thing jumping out at them, Buffy began to realise that Giles paranoia was largely of his own making.

“We have to move the body…” Giles was talking in his sleep in the bunk below. As much as she enjoyed the days, the nights had been a bit of a strain. They had been forced to share rooms at night. Which was a little weird though practical on two points. Firstly it meant she could pay on her Council Credit Card without drawing attention – and Giles was adamant they mustn’t draw attention – and secondly she could be on hand for when he had his dreams. He’d warned her they could get bad, but she’d nursemaided Angel on his return from hell and was confident she could deal.

She tried to turn over in her bunk bed. They were almost on the last leg of their journey. The overnight ferry across the North Sea to England held little glamour four days after Christmas. There had been the usual drunks in the bar making a noise, defying the elements and the ship’s crew, but mostly it was tired private people crossing the sea as functional transport, not cruising in luxury. The ferry company called the rooms economy cabins in order to confer nautical glamour but in reality they were boxes with a common bathroom block at the end of each corridor. The design of the ship meant the cabins barely fitted a bunk bed, economy being the watchword. Cram as many sleeping bodies together with the pretence of seclusion. None of the cabins had windows. She’d joked she’d slept in bigger coffins to Giles but he’d just grunted and curled up on the bottom bunk.

She was dreaming again of warm places when the noise started again and this time he was really screaming. It took a moment to realise there was also hammering on their cabin door and angry words outside. She was grateful she hadn’t undressed for sleep as she scooted down from the top bunk.

“Not here Giles please…” she begged.

He was still asleep despite his screams and this was the big problem. She could never wake him up. In three nights she’d tried everything: shaking him, slapping him, hugging him but touching him only seemed to make it worse. He’d nearly gone over a balcony the first night because she couldn’t get him to wake and realise where he was. If she hadn’t had a Slayer’s strength he’d have fallen. He needed her to be strong for him but at times like these all she could do was talk to him. “Giles please wake up.” She felt horribly inadequate as the door to their cramped cabin pass keyed opened and the large German Stewardess called Magna, that Buffy remembered from the dining hall, imposed herself in the room.

“Is everything OK in here? Sir?” Giles quietened immediately and flinched back into the corner of the bunk But Buffy knew it wasn’t over. Magna was solidly built and her name badge indicated she spoke four languages; she looked the sort that didn’t brook a lot of trouble in any of them. “Sir?” she repeated in a surprisingly gentle voice as she approached the bunk.

Buffy darted up from her knees. “Hi, yes I’m really sorry about all this.” Giles started to punch the wall behind her. The stewardess ignored Buffy and bent down to study Giles.

“Sir, you need to stop that,” she said kindly. Giles immediately complied which rankled with Buffy slightly. Magna turned to her. “I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you both to come with me. We can’t have you disturbing the other passengers like this.”

Outside there were mumblings of ‘damn right too’. ‘Guy is possessed or something.’ And an alarming call of ‘Throw them in the brig’. Buffy balked at that thought: Giles’ new found claustrophobia at being in any way locked up was going to make that difficult.

“Just give me a moment to get our things together.” Magna agreed and went to disperse the rubberneckers. Buffy stuffed what few things had spilled out of their bags together and looked at Giles.

“Are you awake yet? We’re on the ferry to England, do you remember?”

Giles was muttering, “Can you move?” to himself. 

“Great. Let’s not do that one again. Giles! We have to get up now. I’m afraid they want to move us somewhere more er.. sound proof.” 

Buffy carried the bags while Magna took Giles’ arm and led them through the maze of corridors. Their cabin had been pretty much in the bowels of the ship and she took them up several flights of stairs until they stepped on a carpeted walkway with fewer doors and nicer light fittings.

“Let’s try this first. There’s no one else on this deck and the cabin is a good size. Plenty of port holes and there’s a door to a promenade deck.” The stewardess regarded Giles and quickly added, “But I think we should keep that locked under the circumstances.” 

She took a bunch of keys to the door to what was clearly first class accommodation with a large double bed and its own ensuite bathroom. The bath alone looked bigger than anything Buffy had slept in the past three nights. 

“Wow. Thank you so much,” she said, dropping the bags and feeling a twinge of inadequacy as this comparative stranger helped Giles sit on the bed without him freaking.

“Good night, sir,” Magna said, giving his shoulder a squeeze and motioned to Buffy to talk to her out in the corridor. “Will your friend be OK now?”

“Oh yes I’m sure he will. I think it was just a bit of claustrophobia. We booked last minute and couldn’t get anything but economy.”

The Stewardess nodded at the obvious lie. “Does he have any medication he could take? It is none of my business but have you thought about getting professional help for him?”

“Oh we are. Yes, getting the help, I mean. That’s why we’re going to England. There’s some people there we hope can help.” Buffy thanked her again and sparkled what she hoped were reassuring smiles as she ushered Magna out. Buffy closed the door and sighed. At least they wouldn’t be disturbing anyone here. She turned to see the outside door of their new cabin was wide open and Giles was no-where in sight. She bolted outside. “Giles!”

He was seated on a stack of inflatable life rafts, lighting a cigarette. Buffy didn’t approve of his latest disgusting habit but at least if he could set fire to one of his little sticks of death then he was probably, finally, fully awake.

“Please stop fussing,” he muttered. She had been moving to join him but she stopped awkwardly at the rebuke.

He’d put his shoes on but otherwise sat in only a black tee-shirt and jeans as the biting wind tore through Buffy.

“Aren’t you cold?” she asked.

“Not especially.” He swung his thick dark framed glasses away from her and stared at the sea. It was a dark sky and the only lights were from their ferry. The sea was black around them but relatively calm for a late December crossing. The surface was choppy but contained for now. Buffy knew oceans and seas held cold long depths. She had a strong desire to get back inside. 

He took a deep pull on his cigarette. “I’m sorry I embarrassed you.” The words plumed with smoke. 

“No biggie. We’re been upgraded. That’s a good thing. We should do it more often.”

“I think I should go to the Coven alone.”

Buffy was stunned. “You need me to protect you.”

“I have actually managed quite well on my own up to this point,” he chaffed.

They had come so far across Europe and they would dock in England tomorrow. Almost home. She’d been looking forward to seeing England, she felt she knew it through him. 

“We go together,” she said with stubbornness. “You and me Giles. Against the world if necessary.”

He stared at the waves, no longer impressed by her grand promises. “Do you sense anything here? Is there any kind of threat on board?”

“No, nothing. But I’m here if anything does decide to jump out at you. Slayer on guard.”

“Something is out there. Something is stalking me.”

“There’s no threat here.” She tried levity. “Unless you are telling me there such things are sea demons?” but it washed over board as easily as her other attempts at humour had.

“Something beneath the surface. Oh maybe it’s the lack of sleep.” He rubbed his eyes. “Maybe I am going crazy. Whom the gods wish to destroy they first make mad, eh?”

Buffy fought the urge to bite her lip. She hated this spell that was changing him. Ever since she’d died defeating Glory he’d been affected by something that drove him apart from other people. Their best guess what that it was something done to him by the Council to make him her Watcher and it needed to be stopped.

“I’ve got your back,” she said quietly. 

“This isn’t working out very well. I don’t feel I can outrun it if you’re with me. I feel like I’m your prisoner." 

“No you’re not. Not at all. I’m just trying to protect you.”

“And I appreciate it but it’s as if you are smothering me at times. I need my own space.”

“I can’t let you go Giles.”

“So we are prisoner and escort. Marvellous.”

Buffy folded her arms. “You need help and I’m going to help you.”

“I need to be on my own,” Giles snapped. He relented and apologised with a dart of his eyes. 

“Let’s just see the Coven tomorrow,” said Buffy, “Let’s work this thing out together.”

He’d done so much for her in the past, sacrificed so much that it dreadful to think he didn’t want her around. She took step nearer but Giles stood up abruptly and flicked his cigarette into the sea. 

“I’ll take the floor, you have the bed,” he declared. 

“No, you should-”

He pushed past her. “We dock in four hours, Buffy, so let’s just try to get some sleep.”

 

***

_Giles pushed the fourth peg into the ground and stretched the connecting strings taut. His lines looked good enough but he adjusted them till he was sure. He picked his spade up and worked the edges along his linear perimeter, two inches down, and a spade width all along. He then did the same across the area, marking stripes in the turf, before turning the handle and cutting under his strips. They rolled easily and he placed them neatly on his tarpaulin. The evening light was fading but he focused on his careful tasks._

_The ground broke, he started on the laborious spade work, driving down into the hard Sunnydale earth. He trenched his way in sections descending until he could barely see the top of his handiwork, only the stars. He climbed out with some difficulty and sat with his legs dangling over the edge, watching the worms he hadn’t stood on writhe themselves back underground._

_“Watcher.”_

_Giles had heard someone approach; he hadn’t really been bothered to wonder who._

_“Hello Spike.”_

_The vampire stood on the opposite edge and looked across. “When?”_

_“Midnight,” replied Giles. “Dawn will want you there.” He rose, his limbs suddenly very tired from the effort of staying awake, picked up his spade and walked away._

***

It was the feel of the car slowing down that woke Buffy. She’d watched the sun rise and the ferry dock from the comfort of the bed and had listened to Giles’ quiet breathing. She hadn’t had a lot of experience of sharing a room with him to draw upon, but she didn’t think he slept much either. They'd hired a car immediately and she let Giles take the wheel. He’d seemed a lot less cranky in daylight and they bickered amiably enough over the merits (apparently none), of gas station tea. The novelty on being in the left hand side of the road lasted only 10 minutes and she fiddled with the heating controls to get them to maximum. She was lulled to sleep by the grey landscape and Giles’ easy confident driving. He was home of course; it was all so familiar to him. Knowing she couldn’t lose him if they were both in the same car, she had allowed herself to drift off.

Now they were slowing down and she woke. They were on a single lane road with very few cars in the opposite direction; everything ahead of them was slowing down.

“Traffic jam?” she said, more to confirm she was awake. Giles grunted as they were forced to come to a stop and wait. The road was flanked by narrow ditches and low hedgerows which sparkled with cobwebbed jewellery. The fields beyond wore a morning frost like a delicate lace. There was an old fashioned charm to the winter morning like an old lady just rising to greet the day. Winter may have stripped some of her luscious beauty but her elegance was eternal.

A single car drove slowly down the opposite lane, occasionally stopping to talk to other cars with smiles and shrugs. The driver had his family in the car, two children fighting in the back.

Giles dropped his window and nodded.

“What’s the problem up ahead?”

“Police roadblock. Checking everyone by the looks. Drink driving campaign this Christmas I’d have thought. Happy New Year mate.” The children stuck their tongues out as they drove off.

The car in front of them crawled forward two feet before its red brake lights signalled the end of that sprint of hope. Giles sat gripping the steering wheel. A further crawl left a car’s length between them and a toot of a horn behind tried to encourage him but still he didn’t move.

“What are you thinking?” Buffy began warily

He put the car slowly in gear to Buffy’s relief “Good boy,” she muttered, but to her surprise, Giles decisively hauled the steering wheel sharply about. He powered across the road and slammed back into reverse, carelessly hitting the tail of the neighbouring vehicle. The manoeuvre attracted attention and Buffy heard a nee-nah noise of a siren up the road. The driver of the damaged car leapt out angrily and tried to pull on the door. Giles skidded the wheels in drive and powered away, sending the other man flying to the tarmac. Buffy looked in the mirror to see if he got up whilst the sirens started to get louder.

“Giles, what the hell are you doing?”

“It’s ten o’clock in the morning. Nobody road blocks for drunk drivers at this time of day. Not in this country anyway.” He increased his speed to evade the sirens. A police car was nearly clearly visible in Buffy's wing mirror.

“Stop the car. Pull over Giles. They are not looking for us.”

He displayed no such intention and she daren’t grab the wheel. The needle was pushing sixty as they shot away from the roadblock up the side of the delayed traffic until they were out on an open road and he still didn't slow. Buffy's alarm grew.

“This is madness. Please... it's only the police chasing us. You have to pull over.”

But Giles looked only straight ahead. He crossed a junction, running a stop sign and causing other cars to brake and sound their displeasure. Buffy looked over her shoulder, their chasers had a more powerful vehicle and were gaining. There was no way this getaway could end well.

She saw the cyclist on the bend before he did. Slayer senses perhaps: thee ability to anticipate disaster and gain a fraction of a second’s advantage to prevent it. But not much help when you are only the passenger. “Don't hit them, stop the car!” she screamed.

“Shit!” He’d seen it. Giles pushed the brakes and tried to take a wide line, he missed the cyclist but the car was out of control and bounced off the opposite side of the road. He pulled the wheel frantically, but this only drove them back through the hedgerow on the nearside. The field beyond was lower than the road and there was a six foot drop. The car turned sickening on to the passenger side as it fell and crunched to its final stop with shocking violence. Two side wheels spun helplessly on their broken axles.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

  
**Chapter Two**

Buffy woke to the smells of clean bed linen and a man’s aftershave. Her eyelids felt heavy but she pushed on through the sleepy haze and groaned slightly. She was lying on her back on a bed under sheets and became aware that a broad hand was cradling one of hers. She smiled at how good it felt to have someone there for her. She missed her mom terribly sometimes.

She heard the hand’s owner say, “Thank god she’s waking up, Buffy? Can you hear me, Buffy?”

She opened her eyes fully and focused. “Robin?”

Robin Wood was seated by her bedside, smiling. Worry and relief figniting across his features. Buffy looked around her. She was in single, rather sterile looking room. It wasn’t quite a hospital because there were no monitors, but the bed was certainly the main feature along with some stiff looking plastic chairs. Robin’s suit jacket was hanging on the back of one of them. He was dazzling her with a snappy yellow shirt and business tie and looked like he’d just stepped out of an important board meeting. As Head of the New Watcher’s Council, he probably had.

“Why are you here, Robin?”

He grinned ruefully. “Good to see you too. I flew in as soon as I heard what had happened. Last I heard you were in Latvia, and then I got a call from the embassy saying that you’re in England and have been involved in a car crash. I didn’t know what to think so I hopped the Council Jet to get here as soon as I could.” He grinned again. “Perks of the job that I’m totally abusing by the way. Dawn has a regular flight booked for tomorrow night.”

She propped herself up on the pillows. “Dawn is snowboarding some place. Where exactly are we?”

“St Hubert’s Rehabilitation Centre in Warwickshire. It’s one of the few Council properties left untouched by the Bringers. Hubert was the patron saint of Hunters I’m told.”

“Cute name. I feel right at home.”

"Yeah, well, I wanted you to have the best of care and besides, local doctors might not appreciate the miracle of Slayer healing.”

A middle-aged woman with short dark hair and kind eyes entered the room with a clipboard. She beamed at Robin to see the patient awake.

“How long have I been here?” asked Buffy.

“Almost a day,” he said.

“Wow. That’s a long time. I’ve recovered from death in less than that.” She turned her attention to the newcomer with the clipboard. “Am I OK, doctor?”

The woman grinned and replied, “I’d say you are remarkable."

“Sorry, Buffy,” said Robin. “I should introduce you. This is Mrs Preston, she’s been running St Hubert’s for some years.”

"Not a doctor, I’m afraid.” Mrs Preston gave a pearly laugh, “Just a glorified housekeeper. May I say it’s an honour to meet the Slayer.”

“I'm just one of many now.”

“Even so. So glad you are awake and finally with us. I’ll fetch your clothes and of course you must be hungry. We have extensive catering as well as gymnasium facilities. I hope to get an opportunity to show you around.” Mrs Preston swept out, almost clicking her heels in happiness.

“Thanks,” Buffy called. “Robin, er what happened? Why am I here?”

“You don’t remember?” She shook her head. “Well, memory loss is common with major trauma, even with your supernatural powers of recovery. Don’t let it bother you. I’m just glad you’re OK.”

“Me too. And I really appreciate you abusing the Council Jet and all, but what happened to me?”

“It was kinda mundane really. You had a car accident, that’s all. The police found you in a ditch and the fire services had to cut you free. They think you must have been driving on the wrong side of the road. They can be funny about that sort of thing.” He smiled a light rebuke.

“This is England.” Buffy shook off the last of her sleepiness.

“Yes. No-one else was involved so they are not pressing any charges. They do prefer it if you stay on the left.”

“We’re in England.”

“Yes we are.” Robin wasn’t sure what point she was making.

“And Giles? Is he OK?” she asked with concern.

Robin frowned and looked down. Buffy felt dizzy with fear. Something bad had happened.

“He disappeared about six months ago,” Robin said gently. “Don’t you remember?”

“I remember that of course. But where is he now?” Robin looked blank. “He was in the car with me.”

“No-one else was in the car according to the police.” He looked puzzled. “Do you mean you found him? That he’s re-surfaced? Buffy, are you saying you were hunting him when this happened?” Robin was excited but then his eyes narrowed. “Did he hurt you? Did he do this to you?”

“No, well in a way, yes,” she conceded. “He was the one driving.”

“Rather badly it seems?” said Mrs Preston brightly as she returned with Buffy’s clothes. They’d been cleaned and pressed so efficiently Buffy had trouble identifying them.

“It wasn’t his fault," Buffy replied firmly. "Someone was chasing us and forced us off the road.”

Robin held up his hands. “OK. OK. Calm down. I’ll check again with the police but they were very confident you were alone.”

“Check the hospitals close to the crash. He might have been concussed and wandered off.”

Robin’s cellphone started to ring in his jacket and he reached for it. “That’ll be Dawn I guess. She’s been phoning about every thirty minutes.”

Buffy focussed on Mrs Preston as he took the call. “We have to find Giles," she pleaded. "He was in the car when it crashed. I’m not imagining it.”

“If you say so dear.”

Robin wandered out to the corridor but Buffy could still hear him.

“Dawn, hello. Yes, she’s alive and already kicking. I’ll pass you over in a second. Say, has Buffy said anything about finding Giles to you recently? She’s asking for him. No huh?” He dropped his voice but Buffy could still hear. “Yeah, I think maybe she’s hurt, disorientated and lying in a strange English bed and wants to be comforted by her strange English watcher. Hell I know I would. He hasn’t contacted you, has he?”

Giles had been driving she was sure of that. Could he have wandered off and left her? Could he have taken his opportunity to run away from her again? No. She didn’t know what this spell was doing to him but some things were inconceivable. Giles was gone again and for all his discomfort at being with people she did not believe him capable of leaving her injured in the wreckage of their car. No. His paranoia had been justified, somebody had taken him from her and Buffy was going to get him back.  
  
...

 

Buffy took the tour of the facilities whilst Robin checked his police contacts. Mrs Preston had been at pains to show off the kidney shaped pool with spa and sauna, which was nice, if a little dated in design. There was no-one in residence at the moment Mrs Preston had explained, “We rather wound down when… when…” but she couldn’t finish the sentence. The destruction of the Watcher Council had been a grave shock to Buffy but she’s never really thought about the impact it would have had on the likes of Mrs Preston left bewildered behind. Carrying on in that British way she supposed.

“You mentioned a gym?” Buffy helped out. Mrs Preston gratefully took the change of topic and led her to the training area. There were standard treadmills, rowers, spinners. No free weights but wall bars and an elderly medicine ball. She tried a cycle spinner, it looked new though slightly outmoded in functionality. Robin entered as she pushed the maximum resistance and continued to sprint furiously.

He beamed. “What do you think? Can we convert this place into Slayer Training Central?”

The cycle wobbled alarmingly forcing Buffy to quit. “I dunno. This equipment looks new but it’s dated and it doesn’t seem very sturdy. I may have trained by beating the crap out of a school librarian but this stuff isn’t going to hold up to daily use by multiple slayers.”

Robin couldn't hide his disappointment at her snap judgement. “Well, we need to make quite a few changes certainly but the girls would be well protected here. It’s extremely secure. There are magick barriers plus a major wall and perimeter wire with just a single gateway into the grounds. It was a highly classified building in the Old Council. Could be one of the reasons the Bringers never attacked.”

The three of them left the Gymnasium and turned for the main library area. Buffy was puzzled by St Hubert’s Rehabilitation Centre, it seemed to have a lot of security and very little to show for it on the inside.

“What sort of Slayer rehabilitation was this place used for?" she asked. "In fact how come I’ve never been invited here? I needed healing plenty of times.”

“Oh but Mr Giles opposed your leaving Sunnydale,” Mrs Preston interposed helpfully.

“Did he now?” Buffy thought she would take that up with Mr Giles personally if she ever found him again.

Robin added quickly, “And it wasn’t used primarily for Slayers. The Old Council’s focus tended to be elsewhere.”

“Watchers do rather lack your powers of healing,” added Mrs Preston cheerily.

That was certainly true. Buffy could picture Wesley whimpering in pain trying to lift the medicine ball. Looking after their own was what they did best.

They entered the library of St Hubert’s and Buffy just had to smile at the classic Watcher book lined room. Dark wood shelves snaked up to a high ceiling, each groaning with strong leather bound books. She wondered where they hid the paperbacks. High winged chairs clustered around finely ankled side tables. A large mahogany table dominated the centre: it was so old and heavy that it looked liked the rest of the house must have built around it.

“Sheesh. Has Giles ever been here? I bet he loved it.”

“No,” said Mrs Preston following them in. “Our records show he was never brought here.”

“Just as well. He’d never have want to leave.”

“Access has always been strictly controlled.”

Buffy got the impression that Mrs Preston didn’t entirely approve of Giles, which was odd because usually women of that age fawned over him. They certainly had when he'd run the Magic Box, but Mrs Preston was dismissive as she led them to the table where she had laid out what even Buffy could tell were a few meagre books and engravings.

Robin sat at the head of the table to explain. “This is all we’ve got from our resources on the Watcher Slayer Bond. It’s not much I’m afraid,” he apologised. “And we found some Watcher Diaries we’ve managed to recover where the writer makes references to feeling some sort of a bond.”

“Any common factors?”

“Not really. The watchers varied in age, sex and nationality. Only thing we can really say is that it tends to be the longer surviving Slayers but even then it’s by no means everyone. The Old Council chalked it up to sentimentality.”

She wished she had Willow and Xander for study partners but high school was a million years away.

“How come you’ve not shown me any of this before?”

“You’ve never wanted to discuss his name before.” It was true. Giles had been a tetchy subject ever since his disappearance when Buffy had been so angry with him. “I’m pleased you’re taking the threat seriously now,” Robin added.

“He thinks there’s a curse or spell on him. Did you find anything to suggest the Council did any magick to make him my Watcher?”

Robin picked up a journal to re-read. “Not from any evidence we’ve found. And we’ve dug pretty damn deep. We have some medieval references to the incident of the Old Council trying to speed up the Bond. But it was too unstable and I can’t see any reason for anyone to do that in the modern era.”

Mrs Preston ventured an opinion. “So much was destroyed of course, but I really can’t believe the Council were responsible. I’ve seen Watchers when their Slayer has died. They don’t display the symptoms you say Mr Giles has. I can’t see why the Council would have done anything different in his case. He comes from trusted old Watcher stock and his father was still active in the Council. He’d hardly have permitted anything ‘experimental’ on his own son.”

“I don’t think they were close,” frowned Buffy.

“They may have had their differences but Mr Giles Senior was a gentleman,” said Mrs Preston in a firm tone that seemed to indicate her conclusive argument. She’d liked Giles’ dad, maybe that was why she didn’t like Giles? She might have only heard one side of the old stories.

Buffy's eye caught sight of a small gilt edged painting. “What’s that?”

“That is what I call desperation research,” Robin replied. “It’s a 15th century oil painting called The Bond so we included it out research. Like I say, we’ve pulled everything we have and it’s not a lot. I’m not sure it tells us much but it was in the archives so...” he trailed off in apology.

Buffy studied the delicate painting. It was dark and grimy and the oils had an additional thick texture of dust in places. It depicted a simple night scene in some stylised woods: a confrontation between five people. There were three large feral men in dark peasant clothing on the right hand side. On the left there was a man in a dark torn shirt. He was on his knees, his hands were in front of him pleading. Standing between them, at the centre of the action, was a young unassuming girl with long hair and white peasant dress. To the untrained eye she looked like a victim and even though she didn't seem to be holding any weapons, Buffy knew better.

“Do you know the picture?” asked Mrs Preston.

“No.” Buffy shrugged. “But she’s the Slayer. The big guys are vampires. They think they are on to a sure thing but she’ll take them down.”

Robin looked at it. “Yes, I agree. Looks to me like she’s just knocked the vampire king on his ass, he's pleading , and the minions don’t like it. She doesn’t seem to have any weapons but my money is on her for the win.” He flirted a little. “It always is.”

“What’s the Slayer's name?”

“We don’t know. We don’t know who any of the people on it are supposed to be. It might not be based on real people anyway.”

“Pity.” Something about that picture was important to Buffy but she didn't know what. She desperately wanted to ask Giles because he always knew that sort of stuff.

“We do have one good lead though," Robin interrupted her thoughts. "Although we’ve exhausted our research materials here, there is perhaps one place else we could try. Have you heard of the Library of Chalcedon? Legend has it that it is housed in a great stone fortress where immortal scholars chronicled the battles between Demons and Men. If anyone can help us with the answer to what is affecting Giles, maybe they can.”

Buffy's mood brightened at the thought of action. “Great, let’s go there," she said and rose. "Library? So what do we need, like a photo id or something?”

Mrs Preston rained a little on her parade. “It’s not quite that simple. The means of access is lost to us. The Council has not made contact in over a quarter of a century and we do not know where it is or how to contact them again.”

“Guys guys. This is the 21st century. Honking great stone fortresses are not so easily lost, not with satellite spy cameras up there.”

“They are if they are hidden by magick,” the older woman replied curtly.

“OK, but there will be someone there that would know what’s happened to Giles?”

She looked to Robin who replied, “We think so, yes. Find the library and they might have better information about Slayers and Watchers than we seem to have.”

“Maybe you could ask the Coven when you go to see them?” suggested Mrs Preston.

Robin agreed. “That’s actually a good idea. They don’t return my calls these days, so I think it would make sense if you went there to talk to them in person.”

Buffy checked her watch. Good, she had a plan. Slayer on the move. “Can I borrow a car?”

Mrs Preston frowned a little concern. “Are you sure you should be driving after last time? One of the boys could take you.”

“I wasn’t driving the last time,” she reminded the older woman rather sharply. Buffy wasn’t sure she liked Mrs Preston.

“There’s nothing you can do here.” Robin rose from the research table. “If Giles turns up we’ll notify you at once. So far no patients at any local hospitals match his description. We’re checking hotel records. The police reports insist they found you behind the wheel. The engine had cooled though so it is possible he took the opportunity to leave you.”

“If I was injured he wouldn’t leave me,” Buffy said firmly.

“Maybe he intended to get help," Mrs Preston began. "Only then he forgot….?” Something about Mrs Preston bugged Buffy. In fact, something about the whole of St Hubert’s bugged her.

“Did Giles want to stay in Sunnydale too?”she asked.

“Pardon me?”

“This is the place they fix broken Watchers right? And yet you said Giles was never brought here. I’m thinking here’s a guy that was tortured by vampires. Concussed more times than can be good for anyone. Half killed by Gwendolyn I’m-smitten-with-my-evil-mitten Post. Willow knocked him through walls till his lungs punctured. He took a spear in the guts just a day before I died. And you are telling me no-one thought to bring him here to help him? Wasn't it allowed?" Robin shifted just enough for her to know she’d got it. She understood what they were trying to hide. “In fact, where are the medical facilities? How does having a nice swimming pool and a pretty reading room help anyone’s recuperation from serious injury?”

Mrs Preston looked uncomfortable and Buffy pressed her advantage. “Oh I see. This isn’t about helping broken Watchers anymore than broken Slayers, is it? It’s a Gentleman’s’ Club. The security isn’t in place to protect casualties. It was a fat cat health resort for the likes of Quentin Travers to snork down gin and tonics and ‘lets have a chukka of bridge before dinner’."

“Don’t you dare speak ill of the dead," Mrs Preston said angrily. "Mr Travers was my best gentleman. Excuse me.” And exhibiting an angry turn of speed she fled the room leaving Buffy and Robin alone. Surprisingly, he glared at her.

“She’s just a housekeeper. Don’t take out all your grievances on the Old Council on her. She didn’t make policy. She’s not the enemy here.”

“You knew about this?”

“Yes and it’s not important now. What we do next is how we’ll be judged. The Slayers that need help will come here I promise. But Buffy, Mrs Preston cared for those senior watchers as people. They were her gentlemen. There are a lot of Old Council like her keen to help, but we have to tread carefully.” Robin pulled out a set of car keys from his pocket. “Go see what the Coven have to say. Call me if you find him. I mean it this time.”

...

 

He heard electronic locks this time and bright lights forced him to close his eyes as he was carried in and then dumped to the ground. He spun round but they had gone, leaving him alone in a large clean room with a heavy iron table securely bolted to the stone floor, with the additional decoration of a set of manacles welded to the top. They looked well used and blood-stained. It was a grim conversation piece.

His captors had taken his watch, his glasses, his belt and even his shoelaces. It was difficult to judge how many days he’d been there. His only clues were the stubble on his chin and the ripeness of his clothes. Giles took some deep breaths to calm his nerves and found the air hot and sweet. He touched the walls and inspected the joint work. The construction of this space had taken much effort. He doubted he could have lifted one of the stones. It had a high ceiling and bars topped the final foot all the way around. Hot light poured in from one side. He jumped up but could see nothing. The heavy granite floor made no noise as he landed. It was a room designed for silence. There were incongruous cameras positioned just out of reach, but these had been added relatively recently as the room was old and had served its function for maybe hundreds of years. The electronic door locks and lights were also recent. There were no clues to what country a captive was held in. Or even if such trivial matters of nation states still mattered here.

He felt surprisingly calm even though he was sweating and his hands shook. It was oddly comforting to find his paranoia justified. But as he spent longer in the room and he analysed his emotions, he realised he was starting to feel at home there. As if he deserves to be locked in his hot box. He sat on the floor by the side of the door. It had been some years but it was all sickeningly familiar. He should have realised the moment he encountered the hot sticky environment; that and the smell. The Council and its confederates exchanged a number of secret storage facilities around the world to contain threats. Places that knew how to keep a secret. Giles was pleased his father wasn’t alive to see what was happening. He hadn’t thought about him in years. He tried to take a deep breath and stop thinking about the past. The room should not frighten him. There was a puzzle here; if he focussed on solving the puzzle then the shaking might not be so obvious to his captors. He needed to be logical not emotional.

The electronic release on the door worked and the heavy iron door opened to admit a single figure in a light linen suit. The man waited for the door to be locked again and sighed as he looked around the interrogation cell with some disdain. His eyes fixed on Giles who was crouched in the corner.

The man smiled benignly. “Get up off the floor, Rupert”, said Quentin Travers, “You’re making the place look untidy.”

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

  
**Chapter Three**

It took Buffy some three hours to drive to the Coven in Westbury. The roads had been narrow and unfriendly and she’d got lost on several occasions. Maps and road signs seemed to perpetually disagree and have no interest in settling their differences amicably. Buffy found herself constantly being spun to the same roundabout system. The heating in the car didn’t seem to work properly either, which didn’t help as she wiggled her toes in between bouts of acceleration and inevitable breaking on the slow roads. It felt like dumb chance when she finally spotted a half hidden sign for Westbury Farm. She hopped out and pulled back the shrubbery to be sure. The metal sign was so old and covered with ivy she could have driven past a dozen times and not seen it - in fact she probably had. But finally confident of her target, she climbed back to the car and puddled up the muddy farm track into the warren of buildings. Picking the largest, she walked to a promising door and pulled a lever that she hoped was attached to a summoning door bell.

Everything was going to be OK. She just needed to do the research and solve the puzzle. The Coven had come through before when Willow had gone all dark veiny, and they’d helped Giles identify Potentials after the Old Council had been destroyed. The wind seemed to channel straight down the track and into her as she waited and it was a relief when the farm door finally opened to reveal an elderly, smiling face.

“Hi, I’m Buffy,” she said brightly despite being half buffeted into the porch. The woman was thin and tall, with straight grey hair and rather demanding dark eyes. She didn’t look impressed and pulled her cardigan closer around her, waiting for more information.

Buffy faltered a little; perhaps the sign had been wrong somehow. “This is Westbury Farm isn’t it?”

“That’s correct.” The lady looked up the drive to where Buffy’s borrowed Range Rover looked ever so slightly threatening. Robin had insisted she take a sturdy car though Buffy would have preferred something less Men In Blacky.

“Buffy?” the lady said uncertainly.

“Yes, Buffy. Summers, Buffy Summers.”

“Oh!” The stern face lit up in recognition. “You must be Dawn’s sister. I’m Peggy Harkness, please do come in.”

She led the way to the farm’s kitchen through a dark and cluttered hallway. It took all of Buffy’s agility not to disturb the stacks of boxes and riding equipment. Buffy thought herself a relatively untidy person but she felt like Howard Hughes compared to the farmhouse. A large grandfather clock guarded the entrance to the inner recesses. “I was just about to make some tea, would you care to join me? How is Dawn? We’ve spoken on the phone a lot. Bright girl. We’re all very fond of her. She is alright isn’t she? Nothing wrong I hope?”

“She’s fine. This a working farm? I wasn’t really expecting that.”

“Oh absolutely. We’re a little too small for the supermarkets but local farmers markets have been a saviour and the pony treks are always popular. We’ve diversified into letting out some of the cottages to seasonal visitors for the extra income and we enjoy having guests staying from time to time. Lots and lots of walkers usually, but also Artists working on creative projects or stockbrokers looking for some sort of escape. Some of them paint, or write poetry. We have some spectacular scenery around here. Very desolate. The tors are well worth climbing. Are you creative at all, Miss Summers?”

“Not really.”

“We don’t tend to take guests over the Christmas to New Year period. Were you looking for a room?”

“No, er, excuse me, this is Westbury Farm isn’t it? You are,” she lowered her voice, “you are the Coven aren’t you?”

Ms Harkness leaned forward and spoke softly, “Well, I'm not all of the Coven, but we are all connected.”

“Telepathy?” whispered Buffy.

“Email, dear.” The lady bustled up to an aga stove and heaved a cast iron kettle. “Tea or would you prefer coffee perhaps?”

“Tea. Thank you. I prefer tea.”

“Really? Well what can I do for you? Any sister of Dawn is always welcome here.”

“I wanted to ask you some questions about Giles.”

"Rupert Giles?" Ms Harkness turned her back on Buffy and filled the iron kettle at the sink. “We haven’t heard from Rupert Giles for some time. Biscuit? Or I’ve got some Mince Pies, or a slice of Christmas cake left over? All homemade.”

Buffy felt she was vying with the entire kitchen range for her attention. “I need you to tell me what’s wrong with him.”

Ms Harkness lit the gas stove with great concentration. “Is he ill? I’ve got scones if you prefer? As I say, he’s not phoned for a while. I’m not sure how we can help you. Have you seen him recently?”

“Yes. We were both coming to here to speak with you. Only there was a car accident and now he’s disappeared again.”

Her hostess sucked on her teeth. “Perhaps that’s for the best.”

...

 

Two guards entered with plastic chairs, cups, and a jug of water but despite the heat and his thirst, Giles couldn’t take his eyes off Quentin Travers. He looked as dapper as he'd always done and was currently favouring his goatee beard. Instead of thick heavy tweed he wore a linen suit, the type Giles’ father always wore when he came back from trips to the Middle East.

Giles been taught from an early age never to be certain of anything or anybody. Vampires looked human and Slayers looked frail. The key was to look beneath the surface. He’d been taught that by the Council and men like Travers. He continued to sit on the floor of the interrogation room, hugging his knees and waiting for his heart rate to return to normal. It was impossible to accept the older man looking so healthy and supercilious could be Quentin Travers. The Council headquarters had been destroyed. The man was dead along with hundreds of others. This thing in front of him was a sick joke.

The guards withdrew leaving the two men alone. Travers smiled indulgently. “Sorry about the heat but I needed somewhere we wouldn’t be disturbed. You must be thirsty." He gestured to the water jug. "Shall I be mother?”

“Can you look like my mother?” asked Giles with sarcasm. “She was taller for a start.”

Travers smirked and poured two cups of water. “I’m not the First Evil if that’s what you think.” He drained his cup and proffered the second.

Giles rose and cautiously reached for it with his right hand. “Maybe you’re just the latest evil,” he suggested and took an impulsive swing with his left at Travers’ jaw. He struck pure magick and the pain shot through his arm like an electrical current, and sent him flying back to the wall. His shoulder took the brunt of the impact but mainly it was his pride that was hurt.

“That was rather stupid, Rupert. Of course I’m going to take precautions when we are all so worried about you. I advise you to keep your homicidal tendencies under control in this room.” He looked at the manacles pointedly. “I’d hate to have to call the guards back.”

Giles stood again more shakily. “You’re dead,” he stated.

Quentin Travers treated Giles to one of his indulgent smiles. “And yet I look a lot better than you do right now.” He lifted one of the manacles with some distain and moved it to one side, muttering, “So crude this day and age.” He busied himself pouring more water before taking off his jacket off and hanging it across the back of one of the plastic chairs. His shirt was sweat stained from travel and his tie already loose at the collar.

Giles flexed his shoulder; it stung but didn’t seem to be broken. “You could be a robot I suppose. Actually I always wondered if you were a robot: probably the lack of people skills.”

“Rupert, do shut up and listen for once.”

“And the lack of a sense of humour,” muttered Giles sitting down but ignoring the water. “It is not possible for you to be alive.”

Travers sat casually opposite him. “You always underestimated the power of the Council. I suppose it’s because you never really became one of us. I am flesh and blood I assure you. What would it take to convince you of that?”

Giles sniffed. “I have a strong urge to rip your head off. Maybe that would put both our minds at rest.”

“Interesting. It’s almost as if Ripper were back with us. Wasn’t that your ridiculous nickname? The one you thought made you a man? Before you came snivelling back to the Council. 'The Giles boy: such a disappointment'. Your poor father would be so unhappy to see what you’ve become.”

“Leave him out of this,” Giles warned but Travers had struck a nerve and he knew it.  
  
“The Council has always had excellent medical and mystical staff. I was fortunate. Indeed, they fixed you up after that reckless business on the road. Or did you imagine you walked away from that without a scratch?”

He had forgotten about the car crash. How could he forget about her? “Buffy…where’s Buffy?”

Travers dipped his head in apology. “I’m truly sorry about that, Rupert. We didn’t know she was with you. We’d made no provisions for passengers, you see.”

Giles was incensed. “Liar. She’s not dead. I always know when she’s dead.”

“Really?” Travers rolled his eyes at that statement, “I would like to know how.”

“Because I’m her Watcher,” replied Giles with belligerence.

Travers sighed. “’Was her Watcher’ I’m afraid the past tense applies. No No.” He held up a conciliatory hand. “She’s not dead but I’m afraid it was a rather serious accident. The car you crashed landed on the passenger side. Your Buffy bore the full force of the impact. Her spine was badly damaged.” He pursued his lips. “I’m afraid she’s lost one leg but the surgeons are fighting to keep the other. There are other traumas I won’t upset you with. She’s very strong though. We are all keeping a good thought.”

Giles took up the water and drank. He didn’t want to believe any of it. “You ran us off the road,” he snarled.

“I’m afraid the British police were a little too zealous. I have said I am sorry. You’re a hard man to track down and we only want a little chat.”

“What do you want, Quentin?”

“To business then? We are here today to discuss your present situation. The Disciplinary Committee are assembling and you need to understand the gravity of the position you are in. Formal charges have been drawn up and we don’t have much time to review your defence.”

Giles looked at him in astonishment. They wanted some sort of court martial? It was petty, it was absurd…it could actually be the Council.

He found his voice, “I don’t work for you anymore.”

“Nevertheless there are some serious charges. Failure to notify the Council of the death of the Slayer. Theft of Council property. Actively working to undermine the Council.”

“Actively working…? You were a big pile of rubble, there was nothing to undermine.”

“Desertion of your Slayer.”

“This is nonsense. You can’t do this. You have no authority to keep me here.”

“We can do anything we like, Rupert.”

“You fired me. And you only took me back because Buffy insisted. We both know it didn’t count.”

“Changes nothing. Your employment status isn’t the issue here. We have owned you since you were ten years old. Ours to raise, and ours to punish. No matter what you do you are still our responsibility and we take that very seriously when we get reports of an out of control Watcher, performing acts of violence against former friends and running scared from his Slayer.”

“I want to see her. I want to see Buffy.”

“I’m afraid that’s not possible. Her family and friends have some objections to you being there. Young Dawn seems the mightily unforgiving type. Just like her sister that one.” Giles poured himself more water. He was finding the heat unbearable. His shirt was clinging to his back. “Just what is the problem between you and Buffy? What did you do to upset her? Was it perhaps your conspiracy to kill vampire lover? Or perhaps,” Travers eyes sparkled, “perhaps I should say her latest vampire lover?”

Giles growled into his water. “Sod off, there’s a good chap.”

“Or is it because you killed that doctor in Sunnydale?”

Giles studied the maker’s name on the bottom of his plastic cup to give himself time to think. It was Turkish.  
  
“I don’t know what you mean.”

“The murder of a young medical Intern who, I believe, had earlier saved your life. We take the killing of humans very seriously indeed. You couldn’t possibly have expected us not to find out. You kill someone, we judge. You know how this works, Rupert.”

Travers sat up a little in chair; his hand strayed close to the manacles. “Oh, one last charge. I’m sure it’s nothing but there is the small matter of your stealing important Council documents from our headquarters just hours before it was destroyed by a time delayed incendiary device.”

Giles looked up sharply and said, “You’re not serious?”

“Can you account for all your time in headquarters?”

“Yes. And I didn’t blow the damn place up.”

“Do you remember it all clearly? I mean you do have a history of head injuries. Have you had any blackouts recently? Hallucinations perhaps? Any nightmares at all?”

Giles shrank back in the uncomfortable plastic chair. “I don’t have to talk to you. Travers is dead and you’re not real.”

“Let me be completely honest with you.”

“Ooh. Someone’s upgraded your software,” Giles snarked back.

“Something has corrupted you, taken possession of your soul. You are having nightmares. Sleepwalking? Find yourself in a place you did not intend to be?”

Giles was silent whilst Travers was the cat that had got the cream. “We just want to help. We have always been the best placed people to help you. You came to us for assistance with the hell god Glory. You needed us then because there was no-one else in the world that could help you. We have always been your family and are not without resources. Let us help you again, Rupert.”

“You think I’m possessed?”

Travers nodded sadly. “We both know something happened to you the night when Buffy died.”

“Is it to do with Buffy? Did the Council do anything to me? Make me a Watcher, bond me to the Slayer? I know it’s not standard policy but there was a Watcher once that went crazy after the death of his Slayer, because the Council had forced magick upon him to serve her. The Watcher didn’t want to be a part of the Council or play nurse maid to a Slayer, but the Council decided he had to.”

Travers shook his head.  
  
“I honestly don’t believe this has anything to do with the Council. Your father would have had to have authorised it. Do you believe him capable of that? Of allowing anything harmful to be done to you?”

Giles twisted away from the table and rested his elbows on his knees. He could believe anything of the Council, but his father had always supported him. He may have been a disappointment but his dad constantly showed his loyalty for his wayward son. He ran his hands through his hair and rubbed his neck. The bruising on his shoulder was starting to smart. He felt he needed to sleep someplace.

“Was the decision to return to the Council when you were twenty-one forced upon you?” continued Travers.

“Not to my recollection.” Giles felt warm and thirsty and very tired with everything.

“Do you feel your relationship with Buffy has been coerced?” persisted the older man. “Are you subservient to her? Do you feel there is something unnatural in being her Watcher?”

He did not. It was the one time in his life when things made sense.

“How does Buffy view you?” Travers asked.

“That’s easy. I’m a murderer, a deserter, a huge disappointment and she despises me for it. She feels a sense of responsibility towards me, but I disgust her. She’d rather I weren’t a problem.”

“And that’s why you’ve been staying out of her way? I see. When did you start to feel this way? The night she died perhaps? The night Buffy closed the portal that Glory the hell god had opened with Dawn’s blood.”

Giles eyed Travers with suspicion again.

“We have our sources Rupert, even if you neglected your duty to document the events for us. Why did Buffy chose to die?”

“That was my fault. I lectured her on having to make a sacrifice, so she did.”

“You feel responsible?”

“Getting one’s Slayer killed is what Watchers do best.”

Travers looked at him with warm eyes. “What happened before that? Tell me about the battle and the portal opening. How long was it open for?”

“Why? Do you think something came through the portal? Something crossed over and possessed me?” Giles tried hard not to get excited at his idea.

“It is possible.” Travers rose and gently sat on the corner of the table nearest Giles. “What did you see that night?”

“Glory was dead and everything was going to be alright. We were going to win and then I saw her and...” His voice broke as he lost himself in the memory. “And there was Buffy only not Buffy. Broken. She’d broken her neck in the fall. Her eyes accused me like Jenny’s did. You didn’t protect me her eyes said. God, she was so beautiful.”

“She was a remarkable Slayer.”

“I want to go home.”

Travers touched him gently on the shoulder.

“Soon I promise. We’ll get a flight back to Europe.” Giles squirmed a little at that. “Or America if you prefer. You’re doing very well, Rupert. Tell me what happened before, during the battle with Glory. Tell me exactly what you did.”

“She can’t be broken again.” Giles felt faint and slipped from Travers’ touch to the floor. The older man crouched at his side, speaking softly.

“I want to hear what happened that night. The final battle with Glory and her followers. The night your Slayer died and you neglected to tell us. Buffy deserved better than that didn’t she?”

Giles nodded.

“I only want what’s best for you. Your father and I were friends for fifty years. He hoped you’d succeed him someday. Did he ever tell you that?” Giles gave no response. Travers voice took on a slightly harsher tone. “And look what you’ve become. You’ve killed a man. You are running and hiding from your slayer and her friends. Snivelling on the floor of a Council detention centre and controlled by a demon. It is pitiable. Is this why you came back to the Council? To make a mockery of everything your father held dear?”

“You know why. It wasn’t, it wasn’t that.”

“What changed the night Buffy died?”

Giles hated to admit it but the word pulled out of him. “Everything.”

“Stand up there’s a good lad.” Travers hands were soft and pulled at Giles shirt. “Let’s sit back on the chair. Well done.” He pulled a clean white handkerchief from his jacket pocket and passed it to the younger man. “Make your father proud of you. I know you want me to help you.”

Giles wiped his face gratefully. “I just want to go home.”

“And you will. We can get a flight back to England after all this. I promise.”

Giles heart seemed to bang a tattoo in his chest in warning. He took some time to blow his nose and think about what Quentin had just said. He’d solved this particular part of the puzzle at least. Travers meanwhile touched his shoulder in a way that reminded Giles of his father, but he wasn’t going to get derailed by false sentiment.

“It’s over,” Giles said with a venom that surprised Travers. “I’m quite hard to fool these days with Magick so you must be good. I thought you’d deliberately chosen this room because of what happened here before, but you don’t know anything about that.” Giles glassy eyes sparkled with triumph. “You’re a nobody. You're not Quentin travers and I’m not playing this game anymore.”

Travers resorted to bluster. “We have the authorisation to perform whatever procedure we see fit. I had hoped we wouldn’t have to attempt exorcism but you murdered Dr Ben Wilkinson. That alone gives us the authority to detain you. We are the Council of Watchers, Rupert, and we own you.”

“Play another record, 'Quentin', I want to speak to your boss.”

“In this room you speak to me. You will tell everything to me.” Giles grinned broadly at him. Perhaps Ripper was back in the room after all.

“Don’t test me, Rupert. I serve a greater good. I will do whatever is necessary.”

“Been tortured before, ‘Quentin’ old chap, and by far scarier things than you. You wouldn’t actually hurt me.”

“To cut out the evil that has possessed you? In a heartbeat, boy.”

“But I’ve figured it out. I know exactly where we are. And you can’t frighten me about this place because I’ve been in this room before and the real Quentin Travers should know that. So let’s have the organ grinder and not the monkey. Come on Quentin, show me something really scary.”

The other man started to fluster. “But there’s no evidence of you ever being here before.”

“That’s because my dad knew how to keep a secret. And Travers too evidently, may he rest in peace.” Giles tilted his head to one side. “I bet I can punch a hole in that magick defence of yours. You have shown me enough and I'm a quick study.”

Travers retreated. “I see we’re going to have to do this the hard way,” his voice betrayed his fear. “Guards! Restrain him.”

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

  
**Chapter Four**

Buffy sat in the kitchen of Westbury farmhouse and watched the performance of tea, which evidently took a long time in England. The grandfather clock in the hallway kept a steady goading beat, drowning out the patter of sleety rain on the big windows. In exasperation, she pulled the small painting Robin had found for her at St. Hubert's from her bag and showed it to her hostess.

“What can you tell me about this? How does this fit in? I know it’s important somehow, I feel it, but who is she?”

Ms Harkness took the small oil work and considered it for sometime.  
  
“Her name is irrelevant. I believe it’s an allegorical work and not meant to represent any one Slayer. It’s what you see in the picture that matters.” She handed it back rather dismissively. “What do you see, Buffy?”

“A Slayer and some vampires.”

“Then that’s what it is. There’s no magick on it. It’s rather crude in style. A Slayer and some vampires. Probably not a very common theme in European Art admittedly.”

“But it must mean something.” Buffy found herself waiting again while the woman produced mismatched tea cups and saucers. The teapot sported a design of a smiling black cat whose tail snaked up the handle although there was a chip on the left side. Buffy fought the urge to rise and pace up and down. She tried again. “Have you known Giles a long time?”

“Oh, only a couple of years. He’s been a guest in the house several times. Something of a walker. We often saw him out climbing the tors. We have some excellent viewpoints out the back behind the rental cottages.” She pointed to the distant hills behind the rain soaked windows. “Doesn’t paint though, more of a reader I suppose. Nice man. Keeps to himself mostly.” A sugar bowl and tongs arrived on the table. Buffy felt the conversation wasn’t quite going in the direction she’d hoped for. The woman seemed distracted to the point of downright evasion. It required a more direct approach.

“I’m Buffy,” she declared.

“You’ve said that already, dear.” Small plates and cake tins were added to the table.

This was ridiculous. Giles had been adamant about coming to the Coven. They had snaked across Europe to talk to these people and all she was getting was tea and some admittedly nice looking cakes. And all this time, who knew where Giles was and what was being done to him.

“Look! He considered you to be his friends. We were coming here to talk to you about what’s happening to him. That’s why I’m here. I’m trying to help him. I’m his Slayer.”

“I’m well aware of who you are, Miss Summers. There is no need to raise your voice.”

“I’m sorry,” Buffy fought to keep herself calm, “But please, just tell me what you know about Giles. Please help me.”

Ms Harkness leant with her back to the sink and folded her arms.  
  
“We do not concern ourselves with Watchers as a rule. However the Council of Watchers are a powerful organisation and we have always found it prudent to take an interest in their affairs whilst staying well out of their way. I can tell you we first heard of Rupert Giles when he was assigned as the Watcher to the Slayer but he was no more than a name to us at that time.”

Steam started to rise from the kettle and billow up the window but Ms Harkness ignored it. “We later heard that as Watcher he'd been fired and that the attempt to replace him had failed. We heard of your death and we grieved for you as we have for all the fallen Slayers.” She became lost in reverence for a moment. “We were somewhat surprised by your restitution though having since met Miss Rosenberg perhaps we shouldn’t have been.” The kettle became insistent and the woman grabbed a thick kitchen glove and poured hot water into the chipped teapot.

“That’s it? That’s all you’ve got?”

The kettle was replaced on the stove and the glove hung against the range before Ms Harkness finally sat at the table with Buffy.  
  
“We also learned he had left Sunnydale after your resurrection, which was very unusual behaviour in The Watcher. To serve a Slayer is an honour they don’t usually turn their backs on. He had appeared suitably devoted up till that point. But to answer your original question we didn’t meet him until Miss McKay died and Miss Rosenberg needed our help. We would never have associated with anyone from the Council ordinarily but we felt given his connection to Miss Rosenberg he would be best placed to prevent her from doing anything foolish.”

“And so you supercharged him with mojo magick to take Willow down.”

It was Ms Harkness’ turn to look confused at the turn of the conversation. “Very possibly,” she rallied.

“Do you like Giles?”

“Yes.” She answered that one quickly enough. “He’s a good man but I’m not sure how you think I can help you. As I said, the Coven do not interfere in the affairs of the Council. We merely keep an eye on them.”

“He told me you’d discovered there was a spell on him.”

“Did he?” Ms Harkness raised an eyebrow at that.

“I’m not your enemy,” said Buffy with exasperation.

“Forgive me but you are The Slayer. Miss Summers. You are an emissary of the Council and it has long been our policy to view all such emissaries with suspicion. What exactly is it that you want here?” After her seeming vagueness, her flinty eyes challenged Buffy now. She was a woman who guarded her friends well.

“But that was the Old Council with Quentin Travers and his kind. The New Council is different.”

“With all respect, that remains to be seen.”

“You helped us before. You helped us to find the Potentials when the Old Council was destroyed,” argued Buffy.

“We felt it right to help to save the girls. They were innocent in all of this.” The Coven’s representative judged the tea to have brewed sufficiently and poured two helpings.

Buffy ate a mince pie without thinking and heaped sugar into her tea cup.

“So what can you tell me about the spell on Giles? When did you find it?”

“Mr Giles asked us to help him with a protection spell during his skirmishes with the Bringers. It became clear during the casting that something else was present that opposed our helping him. Although we'd encountered no such resistance when we lent him our magick to help Miss Rosenberg, I can’t honestly say the spell wasn’t present then. It may have welcomed the additional power we gave it of course,” she added with a shrug.

“So this mystery spell could have been in place for some time? From before Willow’s rage? It could go back to when he was assigned to be my Watcher?”

“Possibly but its negative effects only seem to be have become apparent in the last couple of years. Something may have triggered it. He would be able to chart when the effects started better than I. You would be best asking him these questions.”

Buffy reached past the lemon for the milk.  
  
“He has nightmares and Grade A paranoia. He can’t be with people because he thinks he’s dangerous. It’s like he doesn’t think he can trust himself to be Giles anymore,” she said sadly.

Her hostess poured milk into her own cup. “When you came back from the dead, did he seem different then?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t really notice him. I was having a difficult time of it myself,” Buffy admitted.

Ms Harkness nodded sympathetically. “I can only imagine how painful it must have been for you. What’s done is done but I’m happy to see you have come out of the experience well.” It was her first sign of encouragement. Of being human.

“Giles came back to Sunnydale when he heard I had returned. He tried to help with Dawn and money and stuff. He did help in fact. But one day he said I needed to be strong and deal with it on my own and he just left. Looking back he was uncomfortable around us even then. I guess charging around the globe rescuing Potential slayers gave him an excuse to be elsewhere. No. that’s harsh. He needs to keep travelling doesn’t he? This spell makes him do that?”

“It seems likely,” Ms Harkness replied not unkindly.

“Then this is all my fault." Buffy took a deep breath. "It’s me isn’t it? The Council did something to him, I died and it broke the bond to the Watcher. It’s been dormant all this time and now he’s stuck in some sort of grieving loop.”

“That’s an interesting and, if you’ll forgive me, a rather self-centred perspective.”

Buffy stopped up short of biting her second mince pie. “Excuse me?”

“I said it’s remarkably self-centred, dear. How can this possibly be linked to you?”

Buffy was taken aback. “I’m the Slayer. I’m his Slayer and I died.”

“So what? I gather you’ve done that before.”

“But if the Council made him my Watcher.”

Ms Harkness interrupted brusquely. “The Council don’t have that kind of power. They train Watchers but they do not make them. They assign them to the post that’s all.”

“They make Slayers,” argued Buffy.

“You really have bought into the mythology of the Mighty Council of Watchers haven’t you? They do nothing of the kind.”

“But the Watcher Slayer Bond,” began Buffy.

“Path! We didn’t detect any Council magick in whatever is affecting Rupert. Whatever it is, it’s bigger than anything we’ve previously encountered. The Council don’t have that kind of power. And frankly, the Watcher Slayer bond is a bit of a myth. It helps if the two of you get along, and there are precedents for really quite close relationships, but there is nothing supernatural or magickal involved. It’s just a job with a salary and health care. Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Watcher. Yours got fired and he didn’t go all to pieces. If this were an old spell it would have triggered then. Or when you died the first time.”

“I was only gone like two seconds,” she mumbled defensively.

“Buffy, the first Slayer had no Watcher. The mortal animals needed a champion so the Men sacrificed some of their humanity to gain the power necessary to forge a Slayer. She was a killing machine with no soul. She had no Watcher nor any need of one. She hunted and killed so the Men could sleep safely in their beds of a night.”

“And that wasn’t the Council?”

“No. No-one really knows the origins of the Men that created the Slayer. The Council came along much later. They latched onto the power that could be had in controlling the Slayer. Possibly at first the Council were people that saw the battle being waged on Man’s behalf and wanted to help. But over time they sought knowledge and wanted to control, and what started as a noble pursuit quickly became corrupted by the power they gained. Their ignorance garnered them both wealth and enemies.

“There is no great bond," Ms Harkness continued. "Nothing that protects Watchers or draws them to Slayers. They study, train and usually get brutally slaughtered for their naivety. The Bond to a Slayer, the glory of an association to a warrior is a bedtime story, that Watchers tell their young to help them accept that they have been forced into an unnatural way of life and will probably meet a brutally early death.”

It seemed pretty cynical and Buffy had to protest.  
  
“But they picked Giles to go to Sunnydale.”

“They did, but they didn’t have to send Rupert Giles. They could have picked any one of a number of candidates. They fired him for being unsatisfactory. It really is just a job.”

It sounded horribly callous to Buffy and very, very wrong.

“But he stayed.”

Ms Harkness was relentless. “He’d have had no place else to go. To give up the myth of the sacred duty or to be removed from it is to become an outcast. Being a Watcher was all he knew.”

“No. You’re wrong. He stayed to help.”

“He’s a bit of a romantic and I think you are too. Nothing was keeping him there but his own free will.”

“But there were attempts to bind a watcher before. It’s in the Handbook.”

“Quentin Travers and his stupid handbook!” Ms Harkness was moved to clatter her tea cup on its saucer. “More fairy tales. I’m surprised Rupert made you read it. The Council has always attracted skilled practitioners of magick, but I wouldn’t let them perform at a children’s party. You cannot bind a human being to another. We always have free will - that always prevails in the end. Watchers choose to stay even if they don’t realise they are making a conscious choice. In your case he left and maybe you should just accept that.”

“But this spell that’s on him. Maybe that's why he can’t stand being around me.”

“Perhaps it’s time he moved on. Maybe you haven’t treated him very well. You seem far more concerned with your own welfare and how this reflects on you.”

“But it’s affecting me too. I’ve been unfocussed, restless since he disappeared after Sunnydale. I miss him when he’s not around. I need to know where he is and that he’s OK. You are wrong. There’s a connection. Otherwise why do I feel the way I do? God, why won’t you help me?”

***

 

_He was proud of Willow really, proud of the capable young woman she’d become. There really wasn’t any need for him to say anything, so he hadn’t. He sat at the head of the dining table but that was just in deference to his age. Tara and Willow had thought of everything and were explaining to Dawn. Three seats clustered together, gentle hands offering solace. There was a need for secrecy, the Hellmouth needed a guardian and the plan to reactivate the Buffybot was suitably absurd that it might just work. Everything in the house reminded him of Joyce or Buffy. There was a bottle of wine still in the kitchen he’d brought over last Christmas. A catalogue from a gallery exhibition on the fridge door. A thoughtless postcard from Spain fading on the windowsill._

_“I don’t get it,” Dawn was saying. His attention drifted back to the conversation at the far end of the dining table. “When mom died you told me it was important to hold a proper service to honor her. To say goodbye. And now we’re what?” her voice rose angrily, “we’re sweeping Buffy out with the trash?”_

_“No sweetie, no. It’s just we can’t afford the demons to know Buffy is dead.”_

_“And social services,” helped Willow, “they may want to find you some place else to live.”_

_“I want to stay here,” said Dawn, “with you guys.”_

_“No-one is sweeping Buffy out with the trash,” Giles was surprised to hear his own voice speaking. “We are holding a private ceremony tomorrow night.”_

_“How does he get to decide this?” Dawn’s fury was understandable: Giles had wondered the same question really. “Why is he making decisions? What about Spike? You're just a Watcher, you'll be moving on soon. You're not staying here are you?”_

_“Hush darling,” said Tara. “We’re all upset.”_

_“No I won’t hush. You’re done here. You’ve done Watching now, nothing left to see.” Her anger couldn’t sustain her and with the tears threatening to choke her, she ran upstairs, Willow and Tara scraping chairs immediately._

_Tara turned at the banister in reassurance, “She doesn’t mean it Mr Giles. She doesn’t mean any of it.”_

_He smiled to show he understood but actually he knew she meant every word. He’d have to speak to Anya about the shop in the morning._

***

 

The Coven’s representative was very still at Buffy’s emotional outpouring. “Look at me. Look at me. Are you saying you care about Rupert?”

“Of course I do. He’s my Watcher, he’s my… my...”

Ms Harkness rose and swiftly returned with a box of tissues. She was noticeably flustered.

“I’m so sorry my dear. I didn’t understand the situation. Slayers are usually rather heartless little beasts. Not their fault of course, nature of the destiny. But it all tends to be one-sided. Rupert told me you despised him... though perhaps he’s not exactly a reliable witness in this... How very stupid of me. You must stay here of course, whatever you need. Child, you’re cold to the touch. I’ll put another log on the fire.”

She rose quickly to prod the open hearth. Buffy heard the grandfather clock in the hall chime the fifth quarter hour since she’d been there.

“I’m a Slayer." Buffy blew her nose rather noisily. "Point me at the bad guy and I’m all action. This thing with Giles, I can’t find what’s making him like this. He gets so distant. And I freak him out. He can’t stand being with people … and I just want to help him.”

“We’ll do all we can to research this spell. It’s just we don’t have any new leads to go on.”

“If I could only find him again.”

Ms Harkness turned hearth poker in hand. “I beg your pardon?”

“I’ve lost him. It took me six months to find him and that was by chance. And now he’s gone again and how can I find him? Someone’s taken him from me and since this spell he really, really doesn’t handle being in captivity well. God knows what they are doing to him. I have to find him.”

“What do you mean you lost him?”

“We were forced off the road. And I woke up at St Hubert’s and everyone says Giles wasn’t even in the car with me. That I was imagining it and that I was driving on the wrong side of the road. But he was there! And you can’t locate him with magick because that’s dangerous and…”

“Buffy, Buffy. Listen to me. Anyone interested in finding Rupert would have been alerted to seeing your name on the ferry passenger list along with reports of an Englishman with post traumatic stress and rather put two and two together. We’ve certainly been tracking you since the disturbance on the boat and keeping an eye on you ever since.”

“Oh great, so it could be anyone who's taken him.. he could be anywhere…”

“Buffy, focus. Child, I thought you knew. I am so very sorry. I thought this was just a callous clean up visit. I didn’t realise you felt this way.”

Her eyes bore into Buffy’s until she had her attention. “Oh god. You know where he is.” Buffy realised.

“Yes. That’s what I’m trying to say. After the crash, we were tracking you, you were both taken by a Council extraction team to St Hubert’s Rehabilitation Centre in Warwickshire. As far as we know, Rupert Giles is still there.”

 

 

 


	5. Chapter 5

 

**Chapter Five**

Buffy ran back to her car. The drive had taken her three hours to the Coven but she was pretty determined to halve that for the return leg. She stopped checking the speedometer and simply felt her way around corners. It was raining and the wheels spun on the slippery roads in protest. Robin had taken Giles all along. How, she wondered, did he expect her not to find out? Did he think she was stupid? Or did he just not care? The Coven had picked up on their whereabouts, so of course the Council had. No wonder Giles had been paranoid: three hours in England and the so called good guys had run them off the road.

The rain got heavier and mixed in with some icy snow, forcing Buffy to increase her wiper speed and reluctantly ease off the gas. Head and tail lights dazzled her eyes. Giles would react badly to being held a captive. She’d witnessed the effect the spell had had on him when the police had arrested them briefly. He’d been frightened to a point she wouldn’t have dreamt possible in the Giles she knew. He was solid and reliable and he didn’t deserve any of this. She’d tried to give him some space. Tried to respect his need for a gap between them and that had allowed Robin and his Council to tear them apart. The poor visibility hurt her eyes and the tears started to flow. The rain felt like an angry England weeping for her son.

“What the?” The ground suddenly shook the road violently. She wiped her face with her hand and re-gripped the steering wheel. A tree was slowly falling across the road ahead but Buffy pushed the gas and shot underneath. She was a California girl and used to earthquakes, she was not stopping the car for anything.

She noticed the black smoke above the tree line first. As she approached, it got denser until she swung off to the private road and towards the security gates. The booth was unmanned so she rammed the barriers and sprayed the picturesque gravel in all directions. As she rounded the final bend she saw the extent of the devastation. The fire appeared to be under control but one side of St. Hubert's had completely collapsed. Part of the roof wobbled dangerously as the rain poured off it. The peaceful grounds and well manicured lawns now had a five meter wide earthwork running from the perimeter wall all the way up to the house. Rather than twist around the drive Buffy took a direct line to the damaged part of the building. The car gripped the frosty white grass obligingly. It was a little late to be worrying about the state of the Council lawns.

She became soaked to the skin almost as soon as she left the car. A dishevelled Mrs Preston ran up to her and shouted above the rain and hail, “Buffy, thank god you’re here. We’ve set up a triage for the injured round the back. Can you help in some way? Do you have First Aid?” Her hair was free and raggedly. The rain smudged the smut and bruises down her cheekbone.

Buffy took her arms by the elbows. “What the hell happened? Is there anybody still in there?” she shouted, “Is anyone trapped?”

“I haven’t found Mr Robin yet.” Mrs Preston’s voice crumbled a little with the smoke. “He was underground when it happened.”

Underground? Of course this nice picturesque property had an underground dungeon section! St Hubert’s rehabilitation centre: rehabilitating what exactly? Rehabilitating how?  
  
“How do I get down there?” Buffy shouted but the woman had already slipped her embrace and run off to help others. The burrowing earthwork looked to have undermined the collapsed east side of the building, creating a tunnel to the foundations of the property. The rain was shorting some of the electrics still.

“OK. I’d say that looks a good way in as any now,” Buffy muttered and began to carefully climb down through the unstable debris. Noises hammered above her but she was committed to her descent. She crawled and picked her way to an area when the emergency lighting was still flickering. She was relieved to get a reply to one of her shouts.

“Buffy. Over here. I’m stuck under this. Can’t… move this….”

She pulled rubble away quickly. Some of the larger pieces she had to lever with whatever came to hand. The ceiling above her groaned at the disturbance but she dug on until she identified enough of Robin Wood.

“I’m here. It’s going to be OK,” she reassured him. “How badly are you hurt? Can you move if I lift this thing off you?”

“I want to try it very badly,” he groaned. “Argh.” She lifted the iron girder up allowing Robin to scoot from underneath. She let go and it crashed heavily as Robin got shakily to his feet. He was a mess of blood and torn clothing under a film of brick dust.

“Are you hurt?” she asked again.

“No, thank you. I think I’m going to be OK.”

“Good.” Buffy smiled and then kicked Robin’s legs from under him. He landed heavily back amongst the rubble. “Now where the hell is Giles?” she snarled.

Robin groaned on his back and looked around with irony. “I think it is safe to assume Mr Giles has left the building.”

...

 

They cleared the causalities first and then dealt with the worst of the structural damage. At the last minute, it was decided that Mrs Preston should go with the final ambulance because the paramedic was worried about the shock and her heart. That no-one had been killed was a secret blessing to Buffy. The rain finally stopped after having obligingly help quell the fires, and everything seemed a little crisper in the air as the water turned to ice. With things returning to normal Robin took Buffy to the Control and Media Room, and made instant coffee for them while an assistant fiddled with a VCR and monitor.

She wrapped herself in a blanket and sat with crossed legs and arms on the hard wooden chair, waiting for the security tapes to be rewound. Her fury had been put on hold to help with the rescue work but now she needed to know about Giles and it was time to review the New Council’s handy work.

“And you had no idea he could do this?” Robin had asked her. “That he had this much power?”

“He hasn’t. You provoked him somehow,” she answered. Robin had lied to her and she wasn’t going to forget that easily.

The monitor flickered to life with counters and date markers. Robin stood and sipped his coffee. Buffy leaned forward as the screen resolved to lights and an interrogation room. She saw Giles without his glasses and in his shirt sleeves, manacled to a table directly in line with the camera.

“Oh for heaven’s sake,” said Buffy. “Was that necessary? He must have been terrified.”

“Yeah, sorry” said Robin ruefully inspecting the bruising on the side of his head for blood. “The poor lamb, what was I thinking?”

Buffy scowled. “You had no right to do any of this.”

“I had every right,” he returned bluntly. “You should have told me you’d caught him. You should have brought him here yourself. Have you any idea how dangerous he could be?”

“To lock him up here was obscene.”

He pointed angrily at the screen and said. “That’s the obscenity. This is St Hubert’s. This place was untouched by The First for heaven's sake. Nothing gets in or out of here easily. There’s locks, bolts, electronic systems, magick wards. It was built to keep difficult demons here until they could find a way to destroy them.”

“And so you thought you’d found the perfect place to lock up one terrified Watcher?”

“I was hoping it was capable of keeping him, yes. What he’s become. I didn’t make this place, Buffy. Men like your Mr Giles did that. It is a place of detention and execution with incredible security, and yet he took it apart like it was made of straw.”

Buffy’s attention was drawn back to the monitor as she heard door bolts signalling the start of the interview. She focussed on the small screen intently.

On the screen Giles smiled and said, “Morning, Wood” rather cockily.

“You don’t seem surprised.” Robin was a just a voice behind the camera.

“The decor just screams Council and who else would have the keys to the place? Where’s Buffy?”

“Travers did die when the headquarters was destroyed. That was one of our mystics portraying a image.”

“I should’ve known those bastards would have escaped the slaughter. Making lots of new friends in the Old Council are you? That’s nice. Picking up the reins? Exactly where Travers and his kind left off.” Buffy hated to admit it, but Giles didn’t exactly sound scared.

Robin resisted the provocation. “It’s not the same. We are slayer-orientated. We have a different focus.”

“Found all the Council’s nasty little secrets though, like this place. And you’re not above using them. Bernard Crawley had the good sense to walk away from the Council when his slayer was killed. Now don’t make me ask this a third time, where’s Buffy?”

Robin drifted into view at Giles’ side and pointed directly at the security camera. “Buffy understands what we are trying to do here,” he said. “She’s upstairs, watching us right now. She didn’t want to be the one questioning you.”

Giles looked up and directly at the camera. Buffy felt slightly guilty watching the monitor even though the conversation had taken place some hours ago. It felt like he could see her soul.

“She’s worried about you,” Robin suggested.

“I’m worried about me too.” Giles rattled the manacles. “Is this really necessary? American high schools must have got a lot tougher since I worked in one.”

“This is not exactly a job interview.” Robin walked out of shot again leaving Buffy to concentrate on Giles. “Something has happened to you and I think we both know what that something is.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about. My money is still on the Council buggering me up somehow.”

“This is much bigger than anything the Council could do. I’ve seen you in action, when we fought shoulder to shoulder to help Buffy close the Sunnydale hellmouth. I was taught by the best but you were a real killer that day, I said so at the time. For a book guy you had some fancy moves.”

Giles looked nonplussed. “Crawley raised you. You know what Watchers are taught to do.”

“Oh but nothing could touch you that day. I guess that was Ripper I saw.”

Giles grinned. “You shouldn’t read too much in a nickname. It was ironic.”

“Why didn’t the First have its Bringers kill you?”

“You’d have to ask to the First.”

“I think it was because it recognised something inside you. Something even the First Evil thought worth preserving.”

“I’m just very resilient. I want to speak to Buffy now.” He looked straight at her monitor again. Buffy found herself touching the screen lightly. The glass was cold.

“She doesn’t want to speak to you.”

Buffy watched as Giles dropped his head for a moment. It hurt her to think of Giles thinking she felt that way about him. He didn’t seem to understand she cared. She was sure she’d told him as much.

Giles was back in the conversation however. “Is this how you tried to kill Spike? Always meant to ask how you botched that up.”

“This is really nothing personal. I actually kinda like you, but I have a responsibility to all the Slayers out there. I’m the one in charge that has to make the hard decisions. There are people out there who oppose what Buffy and I are trying to build here. The old guard, or maybe demons who just don’t like the way the dice roll, now we are so many.”

“We? You think you are important because you’ve pilfered the Old Council’s stationery cupboard? I’m not interested in your politics. Good for you for making enemies. Maybe that means you’re doing a good job.” Giles rattled the manacles. “Though I suppose it depends on who you think your enemies are. But what I see is a frightened man who has no idea what he’s dealing with.”

“Is that a threat?”

Giles dropped his head as if considering the idea. When he looked up again he was smiling. “Take this place. St Hubert’s. This is old school Council property. Very hush hush. A place to bring the demons when the answers couldn’t be found in the books. A place to bring Slayers when they didn’t tow the line. They would have brought Faith here. Maybe even Buffy when she quit the Council if they thought they could have got away with it.” He looked at the monitor for that line. “Sometimes for the rehabilitation of Watchers that don’t want to be Watchers.”

“You’re always so well informed. How do you know this is St Hubert’s incidentally? Robin's voice was still calm and off screen.

“Lucky guess.” Giles' was insouciant.

“It’s a secure facility. We found meticulous records for every visitor and employee both upstairs and down here and your name never came up.”

Giles was quiet again and brooding. “I guess that sort of thing is easy to cover up when your father is Head of the Council,” he admitted.

“Your own dad thought to lock you up? Was there a reason?” Giles was silent. “Was this after Eyghon?”

“You’re awfully well informed,” Giles said quickly.

Robin demonstrated he could do sarcasm too. “That sort of thing is easy when you are Head of the Council.”

Giles seemed to consider for a moment before answering the question. “After Eyghon then yes, but not so much locked up as hidden. The police got involved, and the Council had certain viewpoints. After Randall’s death there was a lot of pressure on me. My father, well it was what you Americans would call an intervention. It wasn’t as sinister as it sounds. I just needed some time to work things out.”

“He must have been so disappointed.”

“I don’t intend to discuss ancient history any further. My father looked after me. End of story. He loved me and he did the right thing. If it’s of any interest my mother gave him merry hell when she found out.”

“You are going to tell me everything that I need to know, and I don't care how long it takes you to do so.”

Giles looked insolently back at the voice. Buffy turned to the bruised Robin drinking his coffee in the Control room. “He’s just playing Ripper," she remonstrated. "It’s a defence mechanism. It’s what he does. If you push him, he pushes back.” Robin just shrugged back at her.

His voice on the TV screen said, “Don’t worry Mr Giles. We have plenty of time.”

There was a crackle of static across the TV monitor and the sound quality dipped. Buffy heard Giles say, “I wouldn’t be too certain of that.”

The picture cleared and Robin said, “I can keep you here indefinitely. That’s a choice I can make and it isn’t even a hard one.”

Giles smiled broadly. “You can try.”

“Oh I can do lots of things. For instance I’ve been doing a lot of reading since I got the job. The Knights of Byzantium, dressy hellgods, monks, Keys, energy portals to demon dimensions. And Dawn, I had no idea she wasn’t real.”

Buffy felt a chill on her neck. Giles reacted sharply too. “She’s real,” he snapped. “You keep your damned Council away from Dawn.”

“Interesting that you want to defend her.”

“Why wouldn’t I? She’s Buffy sister.”

Robin walked around the back of Giles chair, back into the view screen. Buffy watched as he circled and spoke.

“When my mother died, her Watcher resigned from the Council and raised me like a son. He was proud of me, proud of every report card, proud on every game day. And you left Dawn in whose care exactly… two college girls and a robot?”

Giles looked like he’d been hit by a truck. Robin moved to his other ear to continue. “And then Buffy comes back from the grave, not an everyday occurrence it has to be said, and you what? You write them a cheque and run the hell away again.”

Giles stammered, “I needed to get away,”

“Why? Oh that’s right. This spell you claim to be under. It's time for the truth. Something happened to you the night Buffy died, something changed and you don’t fool me; you know exactly what it is.”

There was another static charge and the picture weaved annoyingly and broke up again. Buffy could barely hear what Giles was saying: “I met Crawley once you know. We had a beer one time he was in London. He didn’t have a lot of time for the Council. Don’t think he’d be very proud of you now. The Council of Watchers inevitably corrupts. Too much power and self-importance.”

The camera began to shake as if an earthquake was breaking.

Giles said breezily, “We must do this again sometime. I meant it about Crawley. I liked him.” Buffy watched as the manacles fell away easily. “This is a room designed to frighten people, Wood. Are you frightened yet?”

The picture went dark for a moment and turned to video snow.

Buffy turned her anger on Robin. “What was all that about Dawn for? And what the hell just happened here?”

“We wanted to provoke whatever it was inside of him. It seems to have succeeded.”

“So where is he now? Where did he go?”

“I don’t know. That’s when the roof fell in.”

“Brilliant. Just, _BLOODY_ brilliant.” She deployed maximum British sarcasm in the word. “You’ve become a perfect Watcher. Half baked plans and don’t tell the Slayer anything. You’re as bad as the rest of them.”

“Well, why didn't you tell me you’d found him?” he snapped back defensively.

“It’s none of your business.”

“Oh it very much is. Someone has to be responsible here. You didn’t confide in me because you can't think straight about him. Face it, Buffy, you have a blind spot about the men in your life.”

“How dare you.”

“You are too close to Giles. You cannot see how dangerous that could be.”

“I’ve heard it all before with Spike and you were wrong that time too. Giles is not a vampire, he’s not a demon and he’s not evil. When I think of all the things he’s done… Standing at my shoulder as a Watcher should…. You have no idea what that man has done. He’s killed more vampires and demons than you can possibly imagine. He killed Glory in fact, yes, he killed a god! And you should show him more respect.”

“Oh, and how do you kill a god, Buffy? Because that’s not something I’ve ever heard of anyone doing.”

“Well, he killed Ben, the doctor, he was Glory’s co-host.”

“Gods don’t die just like that,” he hissed softly. “What if Glory couldn’t be killed? What if whilst your Mr Giles had his bare hands on the doctor, smothering the life out of him….what if the god took the opportunity to find a new residence?”

“What do you mean?”

“Glory is still alive, Buffy. Giles is Glory.”

 

 


	6. Chapter 6

  
**Chapter Six**

Buffy stared at Robin in total shock at his suggestion. Her lungs felt heavy and her chest wanted to pound through her rib cage with them.

“Giles is Glory…..that’s absurd,” she muttered, “Monstrous. You have no right to say that. That would mean that…Dawn….” The full implication hit her. “Oh my god - Dawn!"

“I’ve had her flight delayed. I don’t want her coming here. Believe me, I will protect her with all my resources.” Robin assured her.

“Glory would take Dawn and, no...no. Giles can’t be Glory. I don’t believe it.”

“I’m sorry but we did some research on Dr Ben Wilkinson. He was a loner with no friends. He had the qualifications but he just drifted through medical jobs in different States. Hospital administrators report he seemed a nice enough kid and was trying to do the right thing but always seemed to stop himself from getting too close to people, and then move on. He wasn’t hundreds of years old. If Glory swaps bodies when her host is near to death, our theory is that Glory’s previous host was injured and she took the opportunity to invade the nice young doctor trying to help out. She’s a god, Buffy. They don’t just die.”

“But Ben knew she was in there.”

“Giles does too I’m sure. Or maybe he only suspects,” he conceded. “Glory might be lying dormant until she gets an opportunity to use the Key again. Maybe Giles doesn’t want to believe it. That could be the reason behind his nightmares: her consciousness trying to break through.”

Buffy sat and stared at the snow on the TV monitor. “I don’t believe it. He wouldn’t let her harm Dawn.”

Robin spoke softly. “He may not have that choice. I think that’s why he’s been running away from the two of you. He’s been putting distance between himself and Dawn. Why else would he leave Sunnydale when you were resurrected? You needed his help and he just left you.”

There was a lot of truth in what he said. “Have you any proof?” she asked, wiping her eyes.

“It’s the only theory that ticks all the boxes. What we need to do now is to find him again and work on a way to contain Glory.”

“You couldn’t even keep a librarian under lock and key,” she said bitterly.

  
...

Robin put out a cautious general alert. The message was that Giles had to be found and persuaded to come back peaceably. Under no circumstances must they show their hand. Buffy left Robin with his plans and network of contacts. He was in full avert apocalypse mood but he could have it to himself - she didn’t want any part of this one. She didn’t know what was worse, the idea that Glory couldn’t be killed and would go after Dawn again, or that Giles was the one being possessed by an unstoppable hell god. He was sure to be destroyed in any battle and the thought of that hurt her more than she could articulate. She drove around English lanes aimlessly until she realised that she recognised a sign post for a major trunk road she’d taken twice earlier that day. For the wont of anywhere better, Buffy found herself pulling up outside the Coven’s farmhouse again. It was only four o’clock in the afternoon but already dark and cold. After the day’s rain, the ice had returned to claim the night. She considered sleeping in the car but she’d lost track of her travelling bags days before. All she had were the clothes on her back and her wallet and it was just too damn cold to sleep outdoors. She hoped Giles was warm and safe somewhere, and alone.

She pulled the door bell lever and waited for Ms Harkness but instead the door was opened by a tall man with an eye patch and a warm grin. “Xander!” Buffy hadn’t realised how much she missed him until she saw him standing there. She flung herself at him shamelessly and they stood hugging in the doorway of the English farmhouse for sometime. He was her best friend and always ready to help her. She hadn’t told him how much she appreciated that nearly enough. How had they grown up this way?

“Buffy, I hope you don’t mind me saying, but it’s not your best hair day.” It was undeniable. She’d been soaked through and grimy searching the rubble for signs of Giles and had resisted Robin’s offers of further hospitality.

“It’s been a weird couple of days. I’ve lost Giles again,” she mumbled into his chest.

“That’s OK, Buffy,” Xander said and pulled her inside to close the door. Taking her hand he led her through to the kitchen she’d been in earlier. As she rounded the door, Willow Rosenberg rose quickly from the oak table and threw herself into a happy hug. Buffy was somewhat distracted though because also at the table, incredibly, was Giles. Giles looking sleek and clean and shaved with new glasses and new clothes. Giles, sitting sheepishly at the oak table as if nothing had happened, though typically half hiding behind a mug of tea.

Xander beamed, “You may lose Giles, but I always keep a spare.”

Willow offered further explanation; Ms Harkness had apparently not been idle after Buffy left to tackle St Hubert’s and had made immediate contact with Willow.

“Telepathy?” asked Buffy.

“Telephony,” said Willow. “And then I called Xander. Seemed like a Scooby emergency so I popped us over and went to spring Giles. And god, Buffy, you really need a shower, do you know?”

“Wait a minute? You did that? You caused all that damage? You sprung Giles?”

“Neat, huh?”

“Not really. Willow! You just ripped apart Council property and made us all fugitives. Robin has got every Watcher and Slayer on lookout for Giles now.”

“I wouldn’t have had to cause so much damage if it had been an ordinary detention centre. That place was locked down for some serious partying. Far worse than the Initiative. It needed a hole punching in it. And it’s nice to be dangerous in a wholly on the side of doing the right thing sort of way. It’s where the Old Council used to take things they wanted to disappear. Demons, witches, difficult Slayers. St Hubert’s is really not a nice place. I’m ashamed at Robin. No-one locks up one of my guys.” Willow threaded her arm through Giles’ who, whilst he looked embarrassed, wasn’t obviously freaked by her affection.

She was excited and proud of herself. Buffy knew she got like that when she’d done some serious magick but she was the one who was going to have to explain it to Robin though, and she couldn't entirely relax. Whilst it was good that Giles hadn’t been the one to cause all the damage, Robin’s nasty little theory was still uppermost in her mind.

“I like the new glasses,” she said awkwardly.

“Willow,” he replied by way of explanation. They were frameless and were far nicer to show his eyes. “And she provided the clothes too.” Buffy felt her own hair self-consciously. She was a bit of a mess after the rain and rubble of St Hubert’s. She felt suddenly exhausted and sat at the kitchen table opposite Giles.

“What time is Dawn arriving?” he asked.

It was such an innocent question but she snapped back to full alertness. “Why?”

Giles looked a little taken aback. “I thought she was coming over for New Year’s Eve that’s all,” he began to stammer.

Xander and Willow joined them at the table and Xander asked, “Buffy, what’s going on? There’s something you’re not telling us.”

“Yeah. You’ve been staring at Giles for ten minutes now. He looks good in my new clothes but he’s really not that cute.”

“Robin has diverted Dawn’s plane,” she answered. “No don’t!” She held a hand to stop Willow from saying, or worse, doing anything. “He has his reasons.”

“Which are?” asked Xander. “I mean, he’s getting a bit high and mighty isn’t he?”

“Robin has a theory I take it?” Giles stopped stirring his tea and waited for her answer.

She took a deep breath; Buffy could only say it quickly or not at all.  
  
“He thinks you’re Glory. He thinks in killing Ben you merely moved her on to a new host. He thinks she’s in there, with you.”

Giles took his new glasses off and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Buffy became aware of that damn grandfather clock again, marking time. Finally Giles said, “That’s rather chilling. Has he got any proof?”

“Not specifically.”

Xander lightly punched Giles on the shoulder. “So, had any new blackouts or woken up in women’s clothing recently?”

“Xander!” Buffy was shocked. His sense of humor was appallingly mistimed.

“No more than usual,” considered Giles phlegmatically.

“Giles!” Buffy was even more shocked that having told them her terrible secret, they were taking it so lightly.

“We’ve been working through a list of possibilities,” explained a giggly Willow. “That one came up already.”

“Oh,” said Buffy, feeling like she’d missed some important plot points. They had been very busy without her. “Any we like?”

“None of them we like,” said Xander firmly, “but many we have.”

Giles seemed to find fascination in the grain of the table. “It started the night you died, Buffy,” he said. “The night I killed Ben, so Robin Wood might be right.”

“No no no,I say again no,” cut in Xander. “When Glory was Ben we couldn’t remember anything about it. So she can’t be in Giles or we wouldn’t remember enough to be having this conversation.”

Buffy felt a stir of hope at that but Giles quashed it immediately. “We don’t know for certain.” His fingers traced a knot in the oak. “When we do, then you may all forget. Ben knew, but we don’t know how he knew, or even when he found out.”

Giles rose and made for the front door, Buffy followed him. As she reached for his arm he rounded sharply and addressed her. “How did Robin Wood know where to find us on the road? Did you call him?”

“No. Of course not. I didn’t know Robin was holding you.” She was taken aback he could believe that of her. “He told me I was alone in the car. You have to believe me, Giles. You and me. We were going to solve this together. We still are.”

He chewed his cheek. “He’s very good at picking us off to conspire against each other, isn’t he?”

Ms Harkness appeared silently at her elbow with the news that the hot water was ready and that there clean towels and linen on the bed in Willow’s room. Buffy barely heard her. She just stared intently at Giles, willing him to understand she hadn't betrayed him.

His eyes looked down again, avoiding her. “They told me you were… that…I thought I’d hurt you in the crash.” He stole up a look and gave her a quick grin. “And god you really do need a shower.” he added before slipping out the door. Buffy made to pursue but Ms Harkness intercepted her with a gentle touch on the arm.  
  
“He understands really. He just needs a bit of space and a filthy cigarette. He’ll come back.”

 

...  
  
Buffy took a long bath and changed back into the clothes she’d arrived in. Ms Harkness had washed and cleaned them to look like new. Buffy wondered if she was destined to wear the same outfit forever like a sixties TV show. The gang ate a hearty meal in the kitchen with several bottles of wine consumed. Willow’s happiness was infectious and Buffy had forgotten it was still the Christmas season. Giles took the head of the table and seemed almost like his old self. He rolled his eyes at Xander’s jokes and listened to tales of how the new Slayers were doing. The three of them talked about training and possible Watcher recruits, places they’d been to, and experiences they’d had in dealing with new Slayers. Buffy was surprised at some of the stories. Xander and Willow had sneaked off and become responsible adults, leaving her behind. She felt sleepy with the wine and the talk. It felt like that last Christmas with her mom: when they’d all been at the table laughing, talking happily over each other. Anya and Tara and her mom were gone now. Was Giles going to be next? She shivered a little and shipped her chair closer to the fire.

“That’s new,” Giles said and Buffy turned her head to where he was looking. She’d forgotten that she’d left the Slayer painting earlier that day in her haste. Ms Harkness had propped it up against some riding tackle. Or possibly it was holding up the riding tackle or even the shelf. The Coven’s storage and filing systems seemed remarkably haphazard.

“Oh. Yes. I borrowed it from Robin. He found it in the Council archives. Do you know it?”

Giles brought it back to the table to study but shook his head. “Some European Slayer. The three chaps to the right look menacing enough to be the Council.” Buffy frowned at the new interpretation. She’d had those guys down as vamps.

Xander took it from him. “Interesting,” he said as he inspected the underside and slipped the picture out of the gilt frame. “Oils painted on an oak panel I’d say. What? I know my wood.”

Willow giggled.

Xander shook his head playfully. “Help me out ,Giles. I’m working with children here.”

“Welcome to my world,” muttered Giles.

Buffy exclaimed, “Hey. We are your world.” But he didn’t seem to hear her.

“Painting on oak was a common practice in the middle ages in northern Europe. I’d say it’s German or possibly Dutch in origin,” Giles was swinging into full knowledge guy mood when Xander interrupted.

“Yeah yeah yeah. But do you want to hear the interesting bit or not?”

Giles looked over the top of his glasses at him to invite him to continue.

“She’s been touched up.” There was more Willow giggling, “It’s been painted over in places. This section here is slightly raised to go by feel.”

“It’s been altered?” Buffy couldn’t keep the excitement out of her voice. She knew the painting was important somehow. “How can we tell what it was like before?”

“Easy.” Willow reached for it and worked some magick. The original painting was revealed. It was all the same bar one rather noticeable addition. The girl was now holding one end of a golden chain that snaked to the ground and was tied around the wrists of the man on the floor.

“That’s suddenly got very kinky,” said Xander.

Buffy looked at it but it made no more sense then it had before. “I thought she looked awkward, the way she was standing. Hampered for the fight I mean. Can you see any weapons? Can you get anything else from it?”

“Nope," Willow declared. "Just been cut for scene of Bondage. I guess by the Council prudes.”

"It doesn't help us at all then." Giles threw the painting down and poured out the rest of the wine.

 

...

As Giles, Xander and Willow continued their happy evening, Buffy watched and shrank a little into her thoughts about the painting and the spell on Giles. The other three seemed to be constantly laughing and joking, with even Ms Harkness seeming to be part of the gang. Giles was his old self with Xander and Willow. More like the Giles Buffy remembered from the Magic Box, certainly when he’d given up the pretence of being an old fuddy duddy. Buffy liked to swing by his shop after patrol when he was doing inventory and it was quiet. They’d talk about plans to protect Dawn and drink tea and he then would drive her home. Quiet time with Giles felt like a thousand years ago.

“Wait a minute, wait a minute,” Xander was saying, “Duh! Why don’t we ask those knight guys? You know the Knights of Hack and Slash that were all after The Key?” he elaborated. “They seemed clued up.”

Buffy realised that the conversation the others were having had taken an important turn. The Knights of course!

Giles looked excited too. “We could," he said."The Order and Knights of Byzantium have a fortress and training camp called Chalcedon. Yes, of course! It’s in a desert that is cut off from traditional means of approach. It’s heavily defended but they had a Library that is the stuff of legends. We should go there. Excellent idea, Xander.”

Xander smiled with pride. “I'm not just a pretty face.”

“No, I've never thought that,” deadpanned Giles.

Buffy butted in with her information. “Robin mentioned that Library before. He wanted me to ask Ms Harkness how to find the place. He said no-one knows where it is anymore because the last Council Envoy was like thirty years ago and they haven’t got the records-“

“-the last Council Envoy was my father,” interrupted Giles. “I remember him being rather tedious about it, actually he could make most topics rather tedious, but he did tell me how to find it.” He looked to Willow. “It will take a lot more magick than I have to gain any sort of access to the place.”

“Great. Do you want to go now?” she said rising a little unsteadily.

“No. I think we should wait till morning.”

Xander agreed. “Yeah, Will, no offence but if you teleport us on two bottles of wine, are we going to end up in Belgium or somewhere?”

Willow stuck her tongue out at his comment.

“Maybe you shouldn’t come with us, Giles.” Buffy sought to take charge of the plan. “I mean, if it’s true that their personal nemesis is still alive and potentially kicking should we really deliver her to their door? That would be bad wouldn’t it?” The three friends looked at her and she felt uncomfortable. “Not that it’s true. But what would they do if they thought you were Glory? They’d kill you on sight I’m betting. If we are wrong about this and they suspect you for a moment…”

But Giles had made up his mind. “We have to know for certain for Dawn’s sake. And I’m not missing out on a trip to the Library of Chalcedon.”

Xander clapped his hands together. “Research at the Library. Now I know I’m back in high school. Tomorrow let us ride …to Camelot.”

“Chalcedon”

“Trust me, British guy. Mine’s funnier. Go with it.”

 

***

_The Slayer was flying. Defying the night sky and just as magnificent, her arms out wide, protecting the Earth as he knew she always would. But it was a dream. She bounced into the badly constructed tower with a sickening crunch of bone and then smashed into the rubble at their feet. Her face looked like she was asleep but the beauty of her body was contorted and broken at unspeakable angles. It was both obvious that she was dead and yet completely unthinkable. He hated that she’d chosen that way to close the portal, and hated himself for admiring her actions. He wanted to touch her, to hold her. To fit the bits back together so everything would be OK._

_Morning light stole across the debris, catching her blonde hair. The angel that could no longer fly. He knew everyone else was alive, heard them breathing or crying. Dawn had been cut in the ceremony and was badly bleeding. Anya had taken a nasty head knock. Spike was ducking to avoid the sunbeams and crawling towards Buffy. Trust a poet to wear his heart on his sleeve. Giles pushed him roughly away. Dusting himself on her sun drenched corpse would be an ugly spectacle that Dawn didn’t need to see. Spike grouped his anger and lunged at Giles but his chip triggered a scream in pain and despair._

_At some point, Xander and Willow decided they should take Tara, Anya and Dawn to the hospital and Giles had nodded. It left him with the dead: Ben and Spike and Buffy. Giles would have swapped the end of the world to undo everything that had happened that night. But he couldn’t so he shook the weeping Spike who had been forced to hide from the sun’s rays._

_“We need to move the body somewhere safe,” Giles explained._

  
***

Later that night, Willow pulled back the covers to her bed.

“Buffy Summers, I am very disappointed with you. Are you going to let sexual stereotypes get in the way of eight years of friendship?”

“Huh?”

“It's late. Come to bed.”

Buffy had been standing by the window of their shared box room for twenty minutes, her face lit by moonlight.

“It’s not that I don’t want to sleep with you, Will, but it’s Giles.”

“You want to sleep with Giles?”

Buffy closed the curtain reluctantly. “No, but he’s sleeping on his own. What if he sneaks off in the night?”

“He won’t”

“What’s to stop him though?”

“Common sense I hope. If he wants answers he has to come with us tomorrow. He can’t get there any quicker by himself.”

Buffy scrambled to her bed and pulled the covers tight.

“Can I ask you something, Will? How well do you like Giles?”

Willow turned on her bed to face her. She rested her chin on an elbow. “I love Giles. Don’t you?”

“Of course. He’s my Watcher. I love Giles.”

“There you go. I love Giles, you love Giles, Xander loves him as well.”

That seemed a little far fetched to Buffy. “Xander? Really? Xander loves Giles?”

“Yes. OK, not in a ‘let’s have a big old orgy’ way, but he’s Giles. You don’t have the monopoly on him. I know he was your Watcher but he was our friend too. He needs our help so we’ll figure this out, Buffy. The four of us. It’s what we do.”

Whilst she welcomed the reinforcements, for a brief moment, Buffy felt a tiny bit jealous that her project to fix Giles had expanded to her friends.

“I didn’t think you guys were that close.”

Willow nodded enthusiastically. “In High School you were the Slayer, but we were the sidekicks doing the research. We kinda held our own parade. Besides we had that summer you ran away to get to know him a bit better. Xander had to drive him for the first two weeks and you know, Giles was all about trying to track you down and someone had to look out for him, make sure he took his meds. We hung out a lot then. There was talking.”

Buffy had never asked Giles specifically about what happened with Angel, and she knew he wouldn’t tell her anyway. Not then and not now. That was Giles’ way of dealing. If he rolled into a little ball at times, it was only to get tougher to break.

“Will, what exactly happened after I died?”

Willow eyed her with suspicion. “You were gone three months. How much do you want to know?”

“Immediately after. That night. What happened, what did Giles do?”

“He didn’t really do anything. He just stood there. We all did for a time. But then Dawn needed help and Anya was badly hurt. Spike was trying to crawl to your body but you where in the daylight by then and he was sizzling, I don’t think he cared. Actually I think Giles might have pushed Spike back or punched him. I was too busy with Tara, but I remember a fracas of sorts. We found Ben’s body and we thought one of the crazies had killed him. Giles wasn’t quick with the contradiction and it didn’t seem important. We drove to the hospital somehow, Xander drove I think. Giles wasn’t there. I think he and Spike moved your body some place. They took care of things like that whilst Xander and I took care of the living. Dawn was our first concern.”

Buffy nodded. “You took care of everything.”

“We held a service two nights later. We had to bury you in secret, at night. I don’t know how Giles found the spot. He arranged the coffin and got someone to dig the grave I guess. After that well… he seemed upset but we all were. He didn’t seem worse than Dawn say. He started talking about leaving for England fairly soon after that, but he made it sound very rational. That with you gone, there was no reason for him to stay in Sunnydale.” Willow rolled on her back and thought. “It was rather cold of him, we should have realised something was up then. He’d never have left Dawn ordinarily would he? We should have noticed something was wrong. It’s hard to tell when he’s all English. We’ll fix it now,” Willow resolved and turned over to go to sleep.

Buffy lay alone thinking for a long time afterwards. She was cold again. His Country seemed determined to freeze her to the bone. Giles had said the Library and fortress were in a desert so at least she might be warm for once, except she didn’t want to go. Buffy had a nasty sense of foreboding about the next day. She knew that something very bad was going to happen. She’d spent a week determined to get an answer to the Giles question and now she didn’t want it. She lay awake, listening for the sounds of the old farmhouse creaking. If she didn’t sleep, then maybe the next day wouldn’t come.

 

 


	7. Chapter 7

 

**Chapter Seven**

They arrived as day was breaking over the sandy landscape. Willow had only been able to transport them to within a mile of the fortress, so they walked the rest of the way along a dusty track, encountering no-one, and apparently being watched by no-one, as the citadel had loomed on their horizon as if only part of a lazy dream. Willow walked ahead, vigilant for ambush, magical or physical. Buffy and Xander followed with rucksacks of grappling ropes and weaponry, keenly listening for signs of danger. Giles walked sullenly at the rear with his hands in his pockets.

The air was already starting to dry as day fought for dominion over night. Buffy slipped out of her jacket to let her shoulders cool in the air.  She was nervous about the whole adventure; she dreaded the possibility of Glory awakening in the Knight's compound, fearing the one sided slaughter if that should happen.  No, Glory needed to be dead. There had to be another explanation.

Xander and Willow talked softly as they walked and Buffy envied the way they fell into their friendship so easily. She dropped her pace to stride alongside Giles but he only eyed her warily, and might as well have been on a different continent than next to her. She considered squeezing his hand in reassurance but felt a little stupid and strode on in grim silence instead. She chaffed rather at his apparent comfort with Xander and Willow and not with her. The Glory theory didn’t explain that.

They approached the exterior of the stone compound still having met no-one nor encountering any obstacles. It was an extremely solid piece of architecture built to last millennia. The Knights of Byzantium did not follow a Code of Hospitality and they had chosen to guard their secrets well from strangers. The entrance was a single heavy portcullis near an outcrop of rocks.

“Should we knock?” asked Xander.

Buffy looked to Willow. “What do you think?”

“I think it’s completely protected against magick. I can’t seem to penetrate it at all.”

“Just because we can’t see them doesn’t mean they can’t see us. Even their sounds could be hidden by magick,” reasoned Giles.

“I could try a deeper spell.”

“No, said Giles quickly. “We don’t want to antagonise them if we can help it, and it might be useful if they don’t get to gauge how powerful you are at this stage.”

Xander broke open his pack and selected weapons for the group, testing their weights. Giles refused his offer of long sword saying, “That’s probably not a good idea in the circumstances.”

Xander glared. “Getting yourself killed in their doorway by accident is an even worse one.”

But Giles shook his head again. “We can’t risk giving Glory any sort of advantage. We don’t know if being here will bring her to the surface.”

Xander pushed the sword hilt insistently towards Giles. “Just shut up and defend yourself.”

He took the handle reluctantly. “I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

Buffy sought out his eyes. “I won’t let that happen,” she said.

“But you can’t make that promise,” he said unhappily. “Not really.”

Xander snorted and stood in front of Giles to take up a defensive position. “For the record,” he said, “I don’t believe you are Glory. You just need to buck the hell up and get this sorted.”

Giles grinned ruefully. “Thank you. I feel better already.”

Willow returned from inspecting the main gate. “They really don’t like cold callers. How do we get in?”

“The only way is up,” said Buffy, swinging the grappling rope high up above a turret. They didn’t hear it land but it seemed to latch tight and the rope was taut when she pulled.

“I don’t like this,” said Willow. “You’ll be very exposed climbing up there.”

“I think it’s our best chance.”

“That isn’t saying much.”

Xander took her hand gently. “I agree. I’ve seen this movie. We climb up; they pour boiling oil and rain arrows down on us.”

“Something is wrong about this place,” said Giles. They looked at for further explanation but he just looked a bit embarassed. “I just don’t feel right about it. Probably childish. Sorry.”

Buffy squashed down her own sense of foreboding and took charge. “It’s either I climb up or we check under the mat for a key. We need answers and these are the only people on earth who can give them to us.”

Giles gave her an encouraging smile. “Well please be careful then,” he said before quickly shrinking away. She chose her weapons and pulled up on the rope to get her feet on the ancient stonework. Her sneakers gripped the sandstone and she began to climb cautiously up the side of the fortress.

It was New Year’s Eve in the World someplace, and she seemed to have been in perpetual motion for the past week. Up and down, and round and round the toy road network of England; every time she got close to Giles, something got in the way and pushed them further apart. She’d been always travelling to find Giles somehow. She climbed about twenty feet and then looked down. He was sitting on the biggest rock near the entrance, his arms folded, his sword propped up to his left. She watched as he unfolded his arms and started to clean his glasses. He was really was the most infuriating man she knew.

She resumed her climb, skirting round an archery slit. If Glory had possessed Giles then they needed to find a way to draw her out and deal with her. She was a threat to Dawn which had consumed Buffy’s thoughts two years ago. That was the night Giles had suggested that killing Dawn might be necessary in order to stop Glory opening her portal to hell. Buffy had hated him for that. She’d held a pure cold fury that he should think so coldly, so clinically, so rationally. She’d trusted him above no-one else with her biggest secret – Dawn’s identity - and he’d picked on that to undermine her with. Looking back it was their first serious grown-up, deal breaking row. Not childish bickering over dances and shoes, not even the difference of opinion when he declared he was going to face the Master and she’d socked him. To kill Dawn was their first totally, all out speak our minds argument as equals.

She climbed up higher, further from Giles and her friends.

She’d learnt that night that Giles had opinions and a standpoint and that he wasn’t always about the Buffy. She’d threatened to kill him over Dawn and meant it. Now she couldn’t face any circumstances where Giles had to die even if Glory brought the world to its knees. That night, he'd also been, she mused, whacked out on painkillers from a honking great spear wound to the guts. Maybe that just lifted the mask, maybe that’s what brought out his clear and frighteningly rational plan. Maybe everything else with Giles was window dressing.

She reached the top, climbed up and over the wall and dropped quickly to a crouch, her hand pulling her sword from its back scabbard in one motion. “Come out, come out wherever you are,” she sang.

 

...  


It took her twenty minutes to get the portcullis raised and the main gate open. The dust had bowled into her eyes as she worked in the heat, and they were red and sore by the time she greeted her friends.

The fortress of the Order and Knights of Byzantium was shocking deserted. There were no signs of a struggle, nor of any violence or disorder. The outer buildings had been stripped of possessions. There were no animals, clothes, food or weapons. The knights had shut up shop leaving only their stones behind. Even the rats had left.

They checked methodically and silently. The surrounding buildings were barracks and living quarters and devoid of interest, leaving only the handsome high walled building at the centre of the complex to explore. Buffy pushed open its thick heavy doors and they looked around in awe and wonder. This was what was left of the fabled Library of Chalcedon. Eights floors of shelving rose up from the central point and there was evidence of additional ramshackle stacking as space had become an issue in the past. But what once housed the greatest Library on Earth was now totally devoid of life and knowledge. Every shelf had been stripped bare and only the dust remained. They walked in pointed silence around the labyrinth. Looking up in wonder and imagination at what once might have been. The ceiling held no decoration but an elaborate system of pulleys and heavy chains still remained. Some of the chains snaked to the shelves where they were linked to solid hook clamps.

“All the books. All the answers lost. Something major must have gone down for them to desert this place,” said Willow sadly.

“Our only hope gone,” added Xander.

Giles was fascinated by the chains and the links. He led the way, following the largest of the iron chains in a path around the labyrinth. It led to a mighty stone sarcophagus that was upright in the centre of the biggest room. The chains disappeared into the stone, as if this was the source of the power of the Library. They approached cautiously, still mindful for possible traps when Buffy suddenly heard the faintest of noises and quickly gestured for quiet. There was a scratching noise that wasn't coming from the floor or walls. It was the first sound they’d heard that hadn’t been of their own making.

Buffy took the chain from Giles and went to the where it fed directly into the sarcophagus. She tugged sharply and the faint scratching became a gasp. They were not alone. She grimly began to push on the side of the lid, Xander lent his weight behind her till they pushed the heavy slab to the side where it felt and shattered. Inside the network of chains centred on the wrists and body of an old man. His face wore a deathly pallor, his jaw lolled on his chest. As Xander reached for a pulse, bright yellow eyes snapped open and fangs flashed, grabbing the young man. Buffy punched into the brittle ribcage that gave way, sickeningly easily, causing the old man to be winded just enough for her to pull her friend free.

The figure chained in the sarcophagus returned to normal, his feaures became human and friendly blue eyes blinked to take in his visitors.

“So sorry. Please help me,” he muttered. “It’s been so long.”

“Who are you?” demanded Buffy.

“My name is John Christophe De Croix but I am called the Record Keeper by those that I serve. Please, help me.”

Willow supplied the translation. “You mean you are the librarian here?”

“A quaint modern term if you prefer. I was born to the order of Byzantium but I was not groomed for combat. It was my destiny to serve the warriors on their Quest. As boy to man I fulfilled my duties, forgive an old man his vanity, but I fulfilled my duties exceptionally well. The Library and great records hall were the envy of the civilised world. The knowledge I possessed could fuel armies.” His frail body puffed with pride as he spoke.

“What happened to you?” asked Willow.

He looked at them all in turn. “Inevitably I grew old and weak. I expected to be allowed to die but the Knights deemed me too valuable. One night they brought an Unpure One to my sickbed and I awoke the next day feeling stronger but with such desires.”

“They made you a vampire?” Xander was appalled.

De Croix gave a small bow of his head. “They found a way to extend my service but of course they couldn’t entirely trust me. The chains you see were to permit me access to my records. I continued to serve them in my immortality, but I killed them when I could. It is the nature of the demon I’m afraid. I was a man for sixty years. I have been a vampire for nearly four hundred.”

Buffy fixed his attention. “What happened to them all? Where are they now?”

“They departed,” he said airily. “Some time ago. I have no concept as to when. They trapped me in here. I heard laughter and my beloved books and manuscripts being transported away.”

“Do you know where the books went?” Giles asked impatiently.

“Alas my collection is lost to me. I didn’t understand at the time or I would have begged them to kill me. You must do it now. I will feed on innocents if I’m freed. They fed me animal blood but I have tasted human and killing is a regrettable part of my nature now. In four hundred years there have been accidents; beloved assistants that got too close. I did not seek this living death and don’t want it now. Without my books I no longer want any kind of life. It is abhorrent to me to exist without my comforts on the shelves. I can tell you how you can destroy me.”

“We know how to dust vampires.”

“You seem rather young for such knowledge. I pity you.”

“I’m the Slayer.” De Croix looked at her so intently; Buffy almost began to regret telling him her status. He seemed to hold her in new found fascination.

Xander interrupted. “Why did they leave?”

“It would be an honour to be killed by The Slayer. Oh, leave? Oh, I ascertained their great purpose was at an end and that the beast had been destroyed.”

“Glory?” asked Buffy.

“Glorificus indeed. I heard them speak with joy that her human host was identified and killed. They had no further need of any of my books. Such a narrow sighted breed after all.”

“So Glory is dead?” Buffy felt the need to repeat it. Her heart was thumping in her chest. Dawn would be safe for forever. They could telephone Robin and explain. Everything was going to be alright.

“Yes. The beast is destroyed.”

Xander broke into his biggest grin. Willow hugged Giles impulsively. “I knew it. I knew it all along,” she said dripping a little salt onto his jacket. Giles looked sheepish but relieved and even managed to cast a shy smile at Buffy.

“So why the hell didn’t they just do that themselves?” Buffy was angry despite the good news. “Why didn’t the knights just kill the human host themselves? I mean they had hundreds of years of opportunity.”

De Croix frowned. “Oh but that would have been the height of folly.”

Their celebrations paused and the Record Keeper continued, “They were brave men, do not misunderstand me, but no-one would risk to strike at he that shared the beast’s body.”

Giles removed his glasses and spoke very carefully, “Why not?”

“The hell dimension of which she ruled has a long reach. What do you know of Glorificus and her domain?”

Buffy summarised quickly. “She ruled with two other gods. She got uppity. They gave her the boot.”

“If you mean she shared her evil kingdom with her brothers then you are correct. The three siblings achieved a kind of harmony but Glory grew too powerful for her brothers, they feared her so they found a way to expel her into the realm of the mortal animals. As family they could not harm her fatally but they could cast her out. But also as family, they swore retribution on any mere mortal that deprived her of her life.”

“Vengeance,” interpreted Xander.

“Yes. The prospect of the brother’s vengeance is what stayed the knights of Byzantium’s hands for centuries. They sort to oppose Glorificus, destroy the Key, contain the beast perhaps, but they feared to kill her because of the brothers’ words. _‘He that takes her life shall know not peace from closest for his span and for eternity he shall be ours’_. I think it was that roughly.”

Giles swore and said softly, “It’s a curse.”

The Record Keeper was happy to have an audience. “Oh far more than that. A curse is a thing borne of magick. This is from gods. This constitutes an actual promise. There was a copy of the text, have they taken everything? Oh dear. I wonder if I have remembered the exact words correctly?”

“Give me the Reader’s Digest,” demanded Buffy. "What does it mean?"

“That the brothers will take revenge on anyone harming their sister. He will be tormented during his time on earth by gaining no comfort with that closest to him. Then on his inevitable death, he will fall to their Kingdom for punishment and for I believe the phrase that best translates is ‘for their pleasure’.”

He looked at them happily for a moment. His joy at being helpful for someone was evident. His audience however, did not share his satisfaction.

“How do we stop it? Reverse it, revoke it, whatever it?” asked Buffy

“They are gods of a hell dimension. No magick can prevent this from coming to pass.”

“There must be a way,” she said angrily.

“Well there isn’t," snapped Giles. “Not with hell gods. We don’t need to hear any more. It’s a sodding curse. Kill him.” He stalked out into the sunshine and Willow ran after him.

Buffy reached to her scabbard and produced the short sword. Xander objected. “No wait, we can’t. There must be something we can do for him. This doesn’t seem right.”

“Since when did you join the Save All Vampires campaign? We can’t take him with us now the sun is up. Do you want to entomb him again? Is that fairer?”

De Croix seemed to agree. “I will feed, boy. Do not pity an old man. If you try to take me with you, I will rip out your throat first of all.”

Xander was licked. “I don’t like of this. I hate everything about this.” He kicked the tomb angrily as he too left the Library. “Poor Giles.”

“So you are the Slayer,” De Croix said in wonder as only he and Buffy were left together. “It is an honour. I have heard of many of your heritage.”

“Actually I’m only one of many now. Things have moved on quite a bit.”

“No. You are The Slayer and the man with the spectacles... He’s the one isn’t he?”

Buffy confirmed it. There didn’t seem to be any harm in telling him. “Giles killed Glory. He used to be my Watcher.”

“Oh my child. Your Watcher!” This seemed to cause him distress. “The brother’s curse must be so hard on both of you.”

“Why? What do you know about Slayers and Watchers?” She had a sudden thought. “Do you know of a medieval painting called The Bond? Do you know what it means?”

“Why yes, I saw it once. The Council of Watchers took it to destroy. It was a allegorical joke to the rest of us but pure sedition in their eyes.”

“Why?”

“It depicts them with satire. It laughs at them. The Slayer is the one who holds the chains. The allegory is that the man on the ground represents the Council. The Slayer is supposed to be the weapon of the Council, but actually they have easily become her slaves.”

Buffy was puzzled. “That can’t be right. How can she kill the vampires? There are no weapons in the picture and holding the chain would only hinder her in her fight.”

He couldn't help. “As the Slayer I suppose you have a remarkably practical way of looking at it. She should let go of the chain then I suppose.”

“How do I stop this vengeance curse?”

But De Croix shook his head.  
  
“There is nothing that can be done for him. He is suffering now and when he dies his soul will be damned, I am sorry for him but you cannot keep him alive forever. There is nothing anyone can do to stop what will come to pass. But now please, this tomb is open and the sun is coming round through the windows and I shall perish here. Please permit me the dignity of death at your hands. It would be both an honour and a comfort.”

***

_“Can you move?”_

  
_The doctor lay defenceless on the ground. Giles supposed this was what the phrase at his mercy really meant. A young innocent man, eyes pleading for help and medical assistance. The man who had saved his life some twenty-four hours previously but who now stood between Glory and a safer world. It was not a choice. Giles spoke a little of Buffy, she would not do what he was about to do because she was better than he was. It didn’t matter. He knew there would be consequences, serious consequences. There would be police and lawyers. The Council would deny all knowledge and let him rot. Prison would not be pleasant._

_But he was doing the right thing. Dawn and Buffy would be safe and that mattered more to him than anything._

_Ben deserved to see how sorry yet determined he was so he took his glasses off. Decisively, Rupert Giles killed the man with his bare hands. He had entered into this course of action with his eyes wide open. Buffy would not protect him, She would despise him and never trust him again._

_There would be consequences he was sure of that. When he saw her jump from the top of the tower he thought her death was to be his greatest punishment.  He had no idea._

  
***

 

Buffy dispatched the last Keeper of the Records of the Order of Byzantium with little ceremony. Hers was not a victory of wine and song. She walked into the warm sunlight where Xander was lurking.

“Is it over?”

“He’s gone. It’s for the best.”

She expected another argument but Xander looked too shaken to buck. Willow was sitting on the large rock outside the gates, openly weeping. Buffy could never live so emotionally like that.

Xander spoke softly from behind her. “We can’t let Giles die and be tortured in a hell dimension, Buffy.”

She watched Giles as he threw away the end of a cigarette and walked to Willow to comfort her. Willow threw her arms around his middle and he held her back, stroking her hair, absorbing her shaking sobs.

Xander watched too. “What are we going to do, Buff?”

“Whatever I have to,” she replied.

 

 


	8. Chapter 8

 

**Chapter Eight**

They returned to the Westbury Farmstead a rather subdued party. Giles had taken Ms Harkness into the conservatory to explain what they had learned and Buffy had watched as the Coven’s representative first put her hands to her mouth and then touched Giles' cheeks before pulling him into a commiserating embrace. Buffy stopped watching when it was clear they were both crying.

There were phone calls, emails and even some telepathy but to no avail. The Coven confirmed that Giles’ situation was immutable. Curses from gods could not be countered or uncast. Buffy tried to focus on something she could do. The past five days had been a difficult lesson to her. Take Charge Buffy had rushed and charged whilst the whole story had unfolded around her regardless. Her promises on the ferry to protect Giles and keep him safe were ultimately useless. She felt numb as she watched everyone else commiserate with him. It was as if she no longer had any connection at all.

Given that they at least understood the present, Xander volunteered to act as envoy to the Council and it was later in the evening when he returned bringing Dawn and the good news that ‘You’re off the Wanted posters, Tex’. Robin was mollified and had called off the manhunt. He even had some job offers, positions in the Council in places that could keep Giles out of harm’s way. Dawn’s reaction to the news had surprised Buffy the most. She’d hugged Giles not as a needy little girl but as a young woman who understood something of the world. She was getting older than her seventeen years Buffy realised; though she had also called him a ‘stupid moron’ too so maybe there was still some way to go.

In response to her growing number of house guests, Ms Harkness had opened a couple of her holiday let cottages and Giles had swiftly moved his stuff to the one furthest away from the house. It had only one bedroom and whilst his demeanour was pretty clear that he didn’t want Xander or anyone else sleeping on the couch, otherwise he was stoic. Buffy watched him interact with the others; helping them deal with it with smiles and hugs, reassuring them he wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. She seemed to be the only one to notice he was on his third scotch and had thrown the bottle top away.

They regrouped in the kitchen for another hearty late dinner, but in contrast to the previous evening they ate relatively quietly. Giles sat protectively flanked by Xander and Willow, with Dawn and Buffy opposite. After they cleared and washed the plates, Ms Harkness resumed her contact with the coven leaving the friends to stage a summit meeting of sorts. It was time to figure out what to do next.

Buffy had had a hard time getting Giles to look at her during the meal. She reached across the table for his hand but he eyed her warily.

“The important thing is to keep you safe from harm till we figure out how to reverse this,” she said.

“We can’t reverse it,” Giles said negatively.

Willow spoke up. “Robin’s job offers seem the best bet. The Council have secure places and Slayers who can help with the bodyguarding.”

Buffy didn’t like that idea. “With respect to Robin. I’m not leaving this to anyone else.”

“I used to be the one protecting the Slayer,” muttered Giles.

She squeezed his hand. “You can’t be an active Watcher again. That’s silly.”

“It’s too risky,” agreed Dawn.

Giles fell quiet as Buffy, Xander, Willow and Dawn decided on his best course of action. They pooled their knowledge of Council installations until the strong candidate of the Boston Centre broke clear as a front runner. It was an old military installation that had been used to store the American wing of the Council Library. Willow was keen that working there would give Giles a freedom of movement but with the added security of electrified fencing and magickal wards of defence. “We can all relocate there too. There are schools for Dawn, and we can get Faith and Kennedy over as added backup.”

“I don’t relish having Faith as my jailor,” commented Giles, who’d risen to pour himself another large scotch.

“Not jailor, no,” Willow said earnestly. “We’ll get you your own apartment in the compound. I get that you need your own space, but now we know what the curse deal is we can work with it and keep you safe.”

“No,” said Buffy. “I don’t want to involve Robin at all. It’s best if Giles stays with me.”

“That’s crazy,” argued Xander. “You can’t be there all the time. We need to keep him out of harm’s way. We need to keep him alive and you’ve got a high risk lifestyle.”

Giles put his scotch tumbler down in the counter. “I need a cigarette.”

“You should probably give those up too,” offered Dawn.

“Thank you, Doctor Summers,” he said sarcastically as he left the kitchen.

Buffy waited until she heard the outside door close again. “Guys, I’m not sure I like this idea of finding a secure place for Giles. I don’t want him to become Robin’s valuable research tool. If you keep him ‘safe’ in the facility at what point does it become ‘necessary’ to keep him there. The knights of Byzantium had only the best of intentions towards their librarian too.”

“I don’t think anyone is suggesting that,” said Willow.

“No. It’s totally different,” argued Xander, “and Boston lets him be useful and keeps him safe.”

“No, Giles stays with me,” Buffy declared.

“And does he get a say in this?” asked Xander.

“Of course he does, but his judgement is a little off at the moment. We have to take some decisions for him that’s all.”

Xander rankled at little at that. “He’s not ill. He’s still Giles. He can look after himself.”

“I know that, but you haven’t seen what he’s been like this past week. He needs me.”

Xander looked at her suspiciously “Needs you? One week and your Nurse Buffy all of a sudden? He’s not a pet project. He doesn’t need your pity.”

Buffy flushed. “It’s not pity. I want to look after him, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

“Is this just about comforting him? Or is it guilt? Are you making up for all the times you left him to rot?”

“Guys.” Willow sought to calm the discussion.

Buffy felt her defensiveness change to anger. “And you know best I take it?” she said sharply.

“When it comes to Giles I know more than you do. You don’t really care. Now he knows he’s not a threat he’ll go wherever you  Tell him to. You just have to snap your fingers.”

“That’s because Giles loves Buffy,” said Dawn.

“He’s got a funny way of showing it recently,” Xander responded.

“Yes, but that’s because she’s the Closest to him.” The others stopped their bickering and looked at Dawn. “It’s the curse that’s making him act this way around people, around Buffy in particular.”

“Because she’s his Slayer!” reasoned Willow. “You are the Closest, Buffy. It’s a Watcher Bond thing.”

Buffy wasn’t confident about that but Xander spoke up before her.

“All the more reason you shouldn’t treat him like he’s your pet puppy.”

That was too much for Buffy. “He's not my puppy. I do care about Giles. I love him,” she blurted out.

“Don’t you dare.” Xander was on his feet, shockingly angry. Dawn and Willow both flinched. “Don’t you dare decide you care for him now he can’t love you back without this curse making him feel like crap. We’ve been down that road too many times already. You like your guys to hurt for you and it’s sick to treat Giles that way.”

“I want to look after Giles. What is so wrong about that?”

“Because it’s Angel all over again and whereas dead guy suffering was fine by me, you will not treat Giles like that. He’s not your pretend boyfriend. Tell her.” Xander directed the last shot at Willow and Dawn as he stormed out the kitchen.

Willow made to follow, apologising, “I’ll talk to him and calm him down. He’s very protective of Giles.”

“Ya think?” Buffy said sarcastically but her friend had already left. Only Dawn remained, calming finishing her cup of tea. Buffy eyed her. “You got an opinion?” she asked.

Dawn shrugged. “It’s cool. We’ve all been riding the Giles Lurve Train for sometime now. I’d welcome you aboard but typically you are barging your way up front to drive.”

Buffy laughed and smiled. “When did you get to be this smart?”

“I’ve always been this smart. You were just too dumb to notice.”

“OK, Smart girl,” Buffy fetched down the strange Slayer painting that had been puzzling her ever since Robin had shown it to her. “What do you make of this? Tell me what you see.”

Her sister studied it for a while before pronouncing. “Old and weird.”

Buffy wondered if she’d overstated the smart. “Specifically,” she prompted.

Dawn pointed to the three threatening figures on the right hand side. “Bad guys obviously.”

“Obviously.”

“Slayer equally obviously.”

“Obviously”

“Guy on the ground, I’d say that’s her Watcher.”

“Whoa. What do you mean he’s the Watcher? You don’t think he represents the Council?” The Record Keeper had told her that, it had to be correct.

Dawn looked at her with studied patience. “Well a Watcher is the Council’s Representative isn’t he? So in a way he does. Besides you can tell he’s her Watcher. Look at the way he’s looking at her. Giles looks at you that way too sometimes.”

Buffy was a little stunned at the new interpretation. She’d thought the Record Keeper had all the answers but everyone seemed to have different opinions on this allegorical work of art. It was hard to understand what was going on but she knew the painting was trying to tell her something. Giles had a curse that meant he couldn’t know peace with whoever was Closest but she didn’t understand what that meant. How was she closest to Giles? The Council sacked him for being paternal towards her. Was that how he felt now? She began to wish she hadn’t dropped out of college. Giles and his feelings were a degree course all of their own.

“Are we done now?” Dawn had been watching her for five minutes. “Are we done because I’ve promised Peggy I’ll go to the village green with her for the New Year celebrations. They ring in the New apparently. Singing, fireworks and stuff. It will probably be lame.”

“Peggy?”

“Peggy Harkness. This is her house we’re in.” Dawn rolled her eyes “You really need to work on your observation skills, Buffy. You just don’t see what’s under your nose sometimes.”

Dawn got her coat and left her sister alone with her thoughts. Buffy looked at the picture again and focused on the Slayer at the centre. Dawn had said the man on the ground was looking at her like a Watcher, so who was this Slayer and why didn’t she have any weapons? It wasn’t very practical of her, standing there holding a length of chain connected to the Watcher on the ground. Buffy looked more closely: whilst the girl held a fistful of chain, it looked like it was with the lightest of touches. Buffy rifled some drawers and found a magnifying glass to study the girl’s face. The brush strokes obscured some details but it was clear that the confidence stemmed from her eyes and radiated outwards. This was what made her the Slayer. She was also smiling very faintly which hadn’t been noticeable before. And she was smiling, Buffy could have sworn now she could see more clearly, at the man on the ground.

...

She went outside to Giles’ cottage but there were no lights on so she went round the back and began to climb up the hill behind the farm. It was late but there was enough moonlight to pick up the track. She congratulated herself on owning sensible footwear. She knew she was stalking him again and she hated having to do it but they needed to talk without the others. She had no idea where he was but the track was inviting and might provide a good vantage point across the farm and to the other hills and valleys beyond. She trusted to instinct and headed for where she wanted to be.

The footing was a little rocky in places, a little slippery in others. She remembered how she’d run up the crazy people tower to save Dawn from the portal opening ceremony. In that night sky she’d defied Giles and reasoned her own way of saving both Dawn and the World. Funny. She’d forgotten how much she’d wanted to explain it to him at the time. She’d wanted to tell him she forgave him and that her death was her gift to him. That his duty could be at an end and his life could begin properly. Find Olivia, find someone, start a family. It was what she wanted for him; to be happy with someone. She kept on climbing upwards.

He was there of course. Giles was sitting on a wooden bench at the very top of the Tor looking out across the skyline at the villages and surrounding hills. It was very quiet. In the very far distance there was a road with white and red car lights travelling but the sounds didn’t make it this far away. She sat next to him saying nothing until she felt his breathing return to normal. She was the one that was Closest to him, that was pretty clear. Being around her freaked the hell out of him.

“What do you want to do, Giles?”

He flicked his cigarette lighter nervously but showed no intention of producing his packet of cigarettes.

“Not Boston. I can’t stay in one place. I still feel I have to keep moving, even though we understand what it is now, I still have to keep moving. What do you want, Buffy?”

“Travelling again would be nice. I enjoyed the time we spent together. Just the two of us.” His lighter flicking increased in pace giving her his panicky answer. “But someone needs to stay and keep an eye on the New Council. Robin may be getting out of his depth.”

Giles sniffed. “There always were competing factions in the Old Council. Different agendas.”

“It should be you in charge, not Robin.”

“Better the devil you know?” he mocked gently.

“You’re hardly the lesser of two evils, Giles. I wish I could make you understand that. You’ve done far more than he has to keep a Slayer safe. It should be you in charge.”

“Too dangerous. One of two of those Old Council people could quite literally stab me in the back. Robin is a good man though, he’ll be fine.”

She shivered slightly and Giles displayed his some of his old concern for her. “Cold still?”

“I’ve been cold ever since we got off the ferry. Aren’t you?”

He considered the night around them. “No. It’s quite a mild really. Maybe I’m just used to it.” He took his jacket off and laid it around her shoulders. “We can’t even agree on the bloody climate,” he said sadly.

“Hey, there’s something on fire over there. Look. On top of that hill.” Buffy pointed in alarm.

“No that’s alright. It’s a just a beacon fire. See -,” He pointed, “That top over there has lit one too. A lot of the villagers hereabouts take to the hills tonight to celebrate and pass on the New Year.”

It was New Year’s Eve, Dawn had mentioned that, and it was getting close to midnight. Two more beacons were lit, surrounding them. “Fire pretty,” Buffy said. Giles smiled.

They suddenly heard strange music. The bells in all the surrounding churches had begun to chime in chirruping patterns. Each church belfry seemed to take turns in producing beautiful discordant music. It was eerie being up on a hillside as bells chimed around them in a full panorama. The bell ringers took it in turns or sometimes worked in tandem, producing triplets of notes in counter, or sometimes in pitch. Ghostly harmonies came and went. The crisp notes soared to the stars.

Buffy had never heard anything like it. “It’s so beautiful. Why do they do tunes that way? Why don’t they play ‘When the saints go marching in’ or something?”

“In bell ringing circles it’s called Change Ringing. It’s all about patterns and mathematical progressions. There’s only six bells in this particular change.”

“Knowledge guy,” she gibed.

He giggled briefly. “Ex-choir boy with illicit keys to the belfry so I could have a sneaky smoke.”

She watched the fires burn. Everyone had told her different things about the Watcher Slayer Bond. It was dangerous, it was natural, it was meaningless, the Council opposed it, the Council tried to enforce it. It had seemed the most complicated thing but Giles’ curse was nothing to do with him being a Watcher. It would be nothing to do with her but that it distorted their relationship. He was uneasy, uncomfortable with her ever since her death, no, ever since he’d killed Ben and brought the wrath of hell gods on himself. That was what had changed everything. Why he’d left Sunnydale, stayed out of her way, antagonised her over Spike. He couldn’t know peace with the Closest. Not because she was the Slayer and he her Watcher, but because he was Giles and she was Buffy.

“I know what I want,” said Buffy. “I want to find how we stop this curse. But most of all I want you to be safe.”

This bond was not a Slayer thing, it was not magick. The need to be with someone, to care for them, that was a process that touched everyone’s lives. Some Watcher and Slayers had developed such feelings in the past. Some had not. The initial relationship was forced. A Watcher appointed by the Council to protect or die with their Slayer. A Slayer teamed with a Watcher with no choice in the matter. She’d never resented Giles. She’d liked him, simply from the off, she’d liked him. She’d trusted him to be on her side always and she cried when he’d cried. He was older when they’d first met and understood more about the world. She’d never expected him to not be a part of her life and yet for the past two years she’d spent so much time alone. She missed him. She wanted to be around him. She wanted to protect him, to laugh with him, to love him, to be with him. She’d been looking for the weapons in the painting and her greatest asset was sitting there right next to her all along.

And to tell him all that would be to hurt him.

“Safe,” he repeated glumly. “The Boston prison camp it is then.”

“No. I think now that Robin is OK with this and no longer sees you as a threat, we should set you up a salary, access to some contacts, emergency funds and legitimate travel documents. I want you to be safe, but I don’t want to make things worse for you. And locking you up for your own protection isn’t going to help you.”

He looked thoughtful. “What about you?”

“I’ll stay here. I’ll be the responsible one and keep an eye on Robin. You should go. Do what you have to. Travel where you must. I’ll always be on the end of telephone line if you need help. And Willow, Xander and Dawn. We all care. Apparently there’s a train.”

He looked at her intently. She’d barely seen his eyes the past week he’d been ducking her so much. Now it felt like she could see into his soul. “Giles: you’re fired. You are hereby not my Watcher anymore but my friend. And as my friend you are free to go where you want.”

His hands started to shake and she fought the urge to stop them “It’s OK, Giles. I know what will happen if we stay together. I’m not entirely stupid.” He nodded; they would not speak of the nightmares her proximity had triggered in him. Buffy reached for his face and touched his cheekbone as gently as she could. Her fingers drifted to the hair above his ear. She gave a sudden tug. “However, if you get yourself killed. I will personally kick down the gates of hell and drag your sorry ass out of there, understand me?”

He exploded into laughter and she let him go.

“Yes m’am. Actually Xander offered me a lift to the airport tomorrow but I turned him down.”

She narrowed her eyes in a playful glare. “Did he now?”

She sat back on the bench to watch the skyline. Giles did his best to relax next to her. She was dropping the chain, giving him his freedom in the hope that one day he’d find his way back to her. He was cursed to suffer around her and she couldn’t be selfish and keep him even if it meant he might get killed and suffer the hell fire damnation part of Glory’s brother’s deal.

“Cold still?” he asked.

“No.” She wasn’t. Everything felt right at last. “Maybe I’ve finally got the hang of this country of yours.”

“I think maybe my country approves of you.”

The church bells stopped their tuneful ringing and a single treble bell intoned the passing of the year. Buffy counted to twelve and then it stopped. The world stood silent. From one of the beacons a single firework was lit, then others across the skyline joined in. Buffy sat in a panorama of bright lights and explosions. It was magical and beautiful and she never wanted to lose the memory of that moment.

“Happy New Year, Giles.”

“Happy New Year, Buffy.”

  
**End of Part Two**


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